Bramblepoint behind her tired eyes

the sky is overcast, thick grey clouds concealing the mid-morning sun that strives, defiantly, to break through its veiled prison. occasionally, it succeeds, bathing the rich forest full of adlers, cottonwoods, apple and cherry trees ( not that praimfaya necessarily knows what any of those are ) in golden sunlight before it's chased away by shadows too eager to devour. praimfaya isn't overly bothered by the overcast day — it's cool and with her winter coat growing in, coarse and heavier than her 'normal' coat she notices — it leaves the morning feeling pleasant.

loathe though she is to venture too far from roangeda's borders, she feels plenty confident leaving it in the capable hands of those she's gathered — the actual adults, she reminds herself — and sets about to explore more of greatbear, mostly in curiosity of what resources it has to offer but not entirely unwilling to converse if she happened to come across another.

she treads carefully through the underbrush, mindful of the sharp thorn though it quickly proves more difficult than praimfaya had first assumed. a sharp thorn catches her — a small, shallow splice to her shoulder. she lets out a sharp hiss of pain, ears fluttering back as she pauses to examine it before drawing her tongue across it once before pushing onwards.