Bearclaw Valley they don’t know where they’ll go

as roangeda grows, so too does praimfaya's confidence; and while she knows she has a ways to go before she is ready to ascend to wanheda the goal does not hold the same feeling of impossibility it had directly after her mother's death. to her mystification — or perhaps it was the work of sheer determination and will alone — the pieces were beginning to come together. it was still daunting, in those moments of quiet solitude where praimfaya is able to slow down and take it all in, but it's also incredible. she does not always venture so far from roangeda without a setnes — and as she has every time she's ventured out she has let them know, giving them an option to tag along or not. she doesn't linger around long enough to see. she goes, figuring they will fall in step with her, catch up with her or await her return.

part of her thinks that perhaps a diversion to diaspora is in order, borne of that part of her that is guilty about how abruptly she ( and her father ) fled. without warning and without explanation — though blodreina's broken body should be explanation enough. the mere idea hitches the breath in her throat and twists like ice in her stomach and for now she tucks it away, focusing on her intended path which has brought her to a path lined with boulders and conifers. once upon a time, praimfaya would've looked to the single entrance of this territory as fortifiable ...but not all she sees is a death trap. she resists the urge to flinch away from every boulder she sees, fighting the roil of her stomach as the sound of her mother's body breaking beneath the unbearable weight echoes through her ears.

this is a mistake, she thinks. this is a mistake. 'a fear. one that you must come face to face with and conquer, commander.' linkoln's 'voice' was soothing but her nerves were a bit too rattled and she hurries out of the passage and into the yawning valley with a deep, greedy breath. the sounds of water moving: a lazy river, draw her deeper into the territory in the hopes that a cool drink might help to clear the buzzing in her head. to dispel the lingering feeling that those passage walls had been about to cave in on her, made more threatening by the greedy shadows of night playing where the moonbeams did not and could not reach.

but the sound of retching catches her attention and her path automatically alters towards the origin of the sound, ears fluttering back to rest uncertainly against the proud curve of her skull. hei? praimfaya calls out, her steps tentative. the bird that sits in the tree goes unnoticed by the young to-be commander as she fixes the young ebony boy collapsed against the forest floor in her gaze. are you alright? a stupid question, praimfaya realizes as she peers down at the puddle of sick but the only one she could appear to form given the situation.