Mount Apikuni and he wrote it down RIGHT THERE (HIGHLIGHTS!)

*yeets Elve towards this* she's not much of a fighter ? but feel free to like totally attack her if you're set on a spar

The healer was uncertain of whether she wished to dare the mighty range of Sunspire. Alone in the world, uncertain of what dangers it might hold, the elf debated internally whether to climb the summits in order to reach whatever wonders lay on the other side or simply skirt around it completely. In the end, she choose to investigate the peak known as Mount Apikuni to the locals in hopes of gaining a view of what awaited her in the mountains. 

At first glance, the slopes were idyllic. Green lush pastures dotted with spring blooms; a gentle breeze stirring the budding leaves of the ringed conifers and her own creamy pelt alike. 

Yet, as Elve continued west and her cyan gaze fell upon the evidence of ruin and tragedy - a queer feeling settled beneath her skin, a prickling discomfort that had nothing to do with her physical state. 

It is much like you, a voice whispered from somewhere within. The cursed woman halted aprubtly, graceful stride stuttering as the words struck her with the weight of unacknowledged truth. 

Beneath a veneer of pretense, a falsehood of coping, lies untold horrors. 

Her eyes flickered shut, memories of a girl kissed by snow dancing beneath her lids. Rage and grief flowed through her veins by turn - a fire that she could not light for she had never been trusted with matches. 

Were she alone, a tear might fall. A soft keen of lost might leave her lips. 

But alone she was not. 

Her eyes opened wearily, locking on the nearby figure of a dark brute as he lumbered onto the scene with the slow, steady pace of a man who fears none. 

Caution urged her to blend - given that his eyes had not already lighted upon her frame - to dissapear into the shadows and begone from this wretched place that had brought such memories back to the forefront but a sense of self that had been pounded into her as a child stayed her escape. 

A woman did not turn from a man without permission - even a stranger. 

A soft howl of greeting left her throat, head already bowed in submission as she waited for the midnight war-torn to draw near.