Otter Creek i birth a betrayed nation i filled with hunted

Thyri’s path takes her north of Fairspell Meadow into Otter Creek’s territory, skirting around the dark forest whose claim smells of urine, the pungent scent of blood and decay. She is most interested there: wondering what they feel so threatened of to have to make their borders such a gruesome display. In the thespain queen’s mind theatrics speak to her of overcompensation. She moves near enough to their borders so that she may scent them and once she has gleamed all the information that the borders can give her she gives it a wide berth heading towards the narrow, meandering creek that appears to have started from the towering spire to the right of her position. Adlers hang over the stream bed but most of them have dropped their leaves: they crunch under her paws and float lazily along the current of the creek. Ahead of Thyri, two river otters play with one another, but ultimately beyond acknowledging their presence she pays them no mind. They scurry off after the other and throw themselves into the creek as she approaches, closing the distance.

Thyri pauses when she comes across an Adler that still bears some of it’s leaves, enough to offer a small semblance of shade though the ground beneath it is still dusted lightly with snow and she slides beneath it to give herself a reprieve and a rest. The noon sun is high in the sky, warm against the fur on her back and she dips a paw in the cold water for a few seconds before she pulls it back, trying to figure out in which way she could travel next once she is clear of the creek. She has no real destination in mind ( not that she had the previous time, either ): she only knows her current goals and the end game she desires; but desires can only get her so far and will far short if she does not find a beginning, she knows. Still, Thyri cannot claim she is particularly worried. She will find her way.