Otter Creek the peace and safety of a new dark age

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The rest of the sisters were content in their place on the mountain and usually so was Rheia, but today she felt like a change of scenery. Having never ventured through much of this land she had made her home, an afternoon spent in her own company had led her away from Refurhol and down among the sloping paths. She was nervous when she began her trek and worried that perhaps, should something befall her, there would be no way back - so she had made preparations, marking some trees with symbols she recognized, leaving patterns in hollow places where the snow did not reach, and the like. Little things that had helped her navigate the catacombs of home.
As the terrain evened out in to a series of plateaus the travel became easier. Although it had been a few hours since she had seen Sif or any other friendly face, Rheia was not going to let her fears dominate her drive to explore; so she continued on until the whispering of a creek caught in her ears. It was strange to think that any place would have flowing water at this time of the year but wherever it was, the creek must have had a speeding pulse to prevent winter's grip from overwhelming it. She was eager to see such a place - to be close to the water in any form that it was in, for even a mere creek was divine, an extention of the mother which she missed so dearly.
As Rheia crept along through the snow the chorus of sounds became ever louder, until she was situated upon an uneven bank of slush, rock, and muddy plants which were half frozen. The creek flowed just beyond them, and as the sound filled her ears she closed her eyes to listen - fully content and lost in the moment.