Emberflame Ridge without a border between your lips

Wardruna slows to a stop, trepidation gripping him as he struggle to judge with the accuracy he was once accustomed to between his body and the drop off the ridge. In reality, there is plenty of distance between himself and the treacherous edge as he stands at the thinning of the forest that dominates the ridge. Still, he takes no chances. He can observe from his place of safety: shoulder resting heavily against the nearest tree trunk. Jack-o-lantern gaze of his functioning eye takes in the yawning expanse of the taiga before him. Wardruna desires to stride forward with the confidence that he normally exudes and stretch out like the mighty sphinx at the ridge’s cliff-side to study the stretch of taiga below up close and personal like a king surveying his kingdom. Without one of his women at his side to ‘guide’ him — though whether they have yet figured out he is blind in his right eye or not he does not know — to know where he crosses the line between safe and danger he trusts his instincts of survival and does not risk it. Instead, he is left to settle for a second rate view with a low huff of discontent falling from his lips.