Cassiopeia's View Grass is greener right?

The waifish woman was slowly gaining the confidence she once had, and this amelioration manifested itself almost entirely as an intense desire to travel. It felt nice and familiar, as if it was some last vestige of the wolf she was before the Teekon Wilds, so Farrah was inclined to oblige. In the mornings she would depart and would warfare for hours, feeling stiff and tired in her delicate frame, but oh she loved it! Even though she traveled no farther than half a day’s walk from Moonspear’s summit, the lands immediately surrounding the territory still provided a kaleidoscope of beauty to explore. For just a moment, Farrah found herself able to distance herself from the small, depressed thing that existed upon the mountain. There was little reason for Farrah to return, but she always did — in the daytime, the mountain’s confines were stifling, but during the night her soul cried out for the familiarity of those rocky soils and the den she once shared with her family.

It was a intimate place that had called her, the altar of twilight, and she spent the better part of the afternoon laying amongst its crisp, fall grasses and breathing in the autumn’s air. Soon the afternoon faded into dusk, then to twilight and finally to night. Time to leave. The lamb pulled herself from the ground and made to leave the area, heading to the beloved mundanity of the mountain’s heights. She felt light and happy —  almost out of no where, a scent entered her consciousness. Her breath was pulled from her body. It was different now, but her faculties would always recognize that familiar scent. 

The pale sylph took one stumbling step in the direction of the scent. “Baby?” she called out, half-certain that no one was actually there to respond. Surely, this was her imagination — this wouldn’t be the first time it had played this trick on her.