Deepwood Weald we sip the wind through lips alive

---

after her father's bones had been left at a mountain she'd never seen, she slipped south, suddenly taken by a desire to see the forests and flatlands she'd grown familiar with when they'd resided on this side of the mountain. 

she shouldered through a particularly thick patch of undergrowth before regretting it instantly; the scabs across her shoulders burned suddenly and vividly. wincing, she stepped into the clear, plucking a stray twig from her pelt deftly. she didn't much like conifers; they were mostly unclimable, and the worst of them pricked through her pelt. sap stuck too of her toes together, and regret was beginning to seep down the back of her mind.

@Fire?