Gyrfalcon's Keep 5,000,000,000 years

Cool air in, warm air out. in, out. inhale, exhale. repeat. repeat. repeat.

The air was still, save for the current created by the gentle puff of her lungs. Winter had quelled its fury for the time being, giving way to the first signs of the springtime. Life abounded around them, and even then, under their feet, small plants sprouted and curled in the cracks the ice left in the fragile limestone. It was siow and steady, unhurried. Here, Olive felt the serenity of that darkness afforded, even though it was the middle of an early spring afternoon and the sun shone brightly on their shoulders. It all felt so light up here, so free, and Olive easy shed her troubles and cast her woes to the base of the rocky keep.

There was a small bark and Olive’s castaway gaze was thrown towards the visitor — curiosity flashed across her features, as the druid had assumed she would be alone in her endeavors. But every so often the universe would throw someone Olive’s way and she would meet them by chance on this summit, and they were all fascinating. Not a moment did Olive spend thinking about her vulnerability in such an enciente state, or that the woman was a stranger and smelled strongly of the ocean, or that a stranger was in such a close proximity to Ravensblood Forest. Instead of appraisal and questioning, the seraph offered pleasantries; she gathered her virile figure and drew several steps closer before dipping a creamy snout in greeting.

“Greetings,” Olive responded, voice like spun silk against their still and silent milieu. Olive had no where to be, nowhere to go, so she gladly handed Kalika the relaxed reigns of their interaction.