Broken Antler Fen like a black hole

though the earth has begun to quiet — though praimfaya would much prefer the rumble over the eerie silence that settles in its place — the lapse of prey has her growing worried. the herds have taken flight, no doubt startled by the angry trembles of the earth though she has not felt them here in the sanctuary of roangeda and what small woodland creatures remain have taken shelter roosting high in the treetops or below ground in their shelters. the thought sends an involuntary shiver down her spine. after what has befallen her mother the thought of being surrounded by earth that could so easily give way and crush her is one that brings with it pressing claustrophobia.

a weakness, as linkoln calls it.

praimfaya presses on, glad to see that the fish that inhabit the fen's water sources have not fled ...not that, truth be told, they have many options. it isn't exactly optimal but she hopes it is enough to keep them from starving to death. though she has yet to experience winter for herself yet she has heard that it can be particularly harsh and unforgiving. so can we, she thinks both optimistically and decidedly.

a forlorn glimpse skyward is cast by the worlida as she pauses in her patrol and border marking, noting the thick grey clouds that conceal the normal pastel colors of dawn she looks forward to; and that is when she sees them. the small white things drifting lazily from the sky. having not ever seen snow before: praimfaya is taken by surprise, briefly forgetting she was patrolling and border marking as she studies the sky and the snowfall ( though she does not yet know thats what it is ), momentarily enraptured with unfettered wonder.