Two Rivers Isle it is worth being cold for that

@Fire

The druid wandered with her head held aloft and her pale ghostly gaze searching for signs of others like her. The spirits had promised her many things and she knew that she had arrived in the correct place, but there was a vast country before her and she did not know how well she would be able to traverse it. How much time did she have, anyway? The burning embers of her own thaumaturgy would continue to rage on within her, and the spirits could be quieted if she was mindful of their needs. Seafret was always devoted to them, after all.
 
She had found herself on the edge of a wild wood and lapping river waters that surely would have led to the sea. The druid drew her head upward and drank in the scents of the forest – where she belonged – and she sighed. It was such a pleasant scent, that of musky oak and thick underbrush. Seafret felt as though she were torn in two directions. One would lead her to the isle that rested in the middle of the river and the other would carry her to the ocean, where she would feel the saline breeze against her skin. The young witch paused and waited to see what would come to persuade her.