Silvertip Mountain if you stand for nothing, what'll you fall for?

@Whip

After a decent meal, and a good rest, Akantha felt ready press on. She lacked her formerly impressive figure; instead she was lean and unkempt, but there was a dogged determination in the way she carried herself across the foothills of Silvertip Mountain. They had begun in the west so she was retracing her steps to find the fault in the tapestry she had, unfortunately, assumed was flawlessly woven. It was a difficult lesson to swallow—that her intuition was not bulletproof and, without the intervention of the Mothers, she would have succumbed to the depths. But the whims of the rebellious bitch did not trump Akantha's devotion.

She was now living proof of that.

As she continued her zig-zagging ascent, the air was becoming thinner, and far more biting. The humid warmth of the autumnal lowland woods had no chance against the alpenial heights of the mountain ranges. The sea witch was not normally found anywhere near anything that could be considered a mountain, as it was far too removed from the Sea for her comfort. But she needed a good vantage point to get a better feel of the local territory, map out her next moves, and ascertain just how far inland she had wandered since returning to the Teekons.

The stand of pines soon began to thin as she approached a craggy slide area, but jutting out from the side of the mountain was a rather sturdy shelf of granite. It was worn around the edge from snowmelt and slides, and the earth around it had long since began the process of reclaimation. From sight alone it was stable enough, so she proceeded to follow the dangerously narrow game trail to the ledge. Her legs began to tremble as she approached the edge, and saw just how far down it was—she jumped the last few feet from the path to the shelf and looked back with a sigh of relief.