Dragoncrest Cliffs shoot for the moon; if you miss you will die in outer space, which is cool

Isleña had not taken to being so close with the others, so quickly. She kept mostly to herself, and spoke only to herself, in her language that only she understood. Isleña found that she was her own best company, despite Aure and Verx’s best efforts. So she slept alone and she ate alone, and even in those few moments when she was not alone physically, Isleña was still, mentally, very alone.

In the dark of night, this alone-ness did not feel so awkward, and she did not feel like such a spectacle. The girl who could not speak. The idiot who had never learned the common tongue. There were so many reasons that she would be an outsider, and Isleña chose to focus on and belabor every single one of them so that it affected her more than it ever probably should.

Isleña walked around the heart of the lands, perhaps seeking to sneak something tasty from the chilled winter caches. Instead, she found Mallaidh. Not expecting to see anyone out this late, Isleña’s sleuthing had been reduced to a clumsy traipse, and Isleña was certain she had been heard, if not seen. Seeing no way around it, for it was such odd circumstances, the banshee lowered her crown, approached, and chuffed.