Silvertip Mountain Profound

Her reuniting with her mother had served her well. Tonravik's instincts had truly set themselves within her. They could no longer be ignored, and it was a decision she had made for herself to begin and build rather than feel Siku's fangs hound her heels. There was no question of what she would do. Her brothers had established themselves—she had seen—and so it was her own turn. Her uncertainty prior could have meant the early end to a dream she did not know she had. But it was a dream no longer. It would be reality in time.

Her return had not been long. She, too, was tired from the long journey. Her youth meant that her joints did not ache so heavily as they might have were she older, but it did not mean she was any less tired for it. The morning after, she would have to seek Aguta. She could not recall whether or not she had warned her of her potential leave. Tonravik would learn to be as communicative as her mother when it came to important matters such as soul-searching, something she did not know was even required in her life. Tonravik was impulsive. Her impulse now told her to claim, to lead, to take. And so she would.

The weather was growing cooler. Days would become more bearable here. Once, she could only travel by night. Now she could become more acclimated to the mornings and evenings here; it was a good time to return. She woke by noon, and the winds nipped at her furs hungrily. The sensation was one she could appreciate, and she picked her way through the territory, recalling its nuances from her previous days here. None, in her time gone, had taken these lands; only Neverwinter Forest, which displeased her, but for the while the territory was far enough that its claiming was not (yet) to be a true bother to her.

She descended. She sought the scents of Toothless and of Aguta, of Lasher, who she had met fleetingly. She was unsure if they had joined others in her time gone. She could not begrudge them if they did. Still, she hoped that with them, Tartok would dig its roots in this soil.

Long-legged strides took her toward an unfamiliar scent. Her head was high and so, too, was her tail; in time, this land would not be neutral. Best the stranger learn this now rather than later.