Shadow Mountain And his name is JOHN CENA

I'm hungry, came a plaintive whine from somewhere in the depths of a heavy fog. The mid-morning sun could hardly cut through the gloom enough to show the silhouettes of other mountains around them; Singra felt like she was trapped on all sides by smoky white walls. Her chest felt tight. It's creepy here, she lamented, twisting her head side-to-side until she located the faint figure of her traveling companion.

Leaving Keokuk Glade was a huge mistake, but she wasn't about to let @Tiercel know that. Why, thought Singra, would anyone choose a life where they had to wander around alone or with a small number of others when they could just stay at home? At least mum and Wylla would have kept bringing them food there. Now they had to hunt for themselves. Her nails were chipped from walking. At least one of them was cracked nearly in two from that time she stumbled over a huge rock, and it was painful to walk on. And she was just covered in dust. Ugh. Who the hell ever decided traveling was glamorous and fulfilling?

Can we stop now? I can't see anything, she asked, her voice drawing long in a reedy whine at the end.