Deepwood Weald ᵇʷᵖ ilyë mahalmar ëa?

sorry for the late reply, no rush <3

And neither could the stricken ask for the skies to cleave once more and wrench away what they had brought upon her; neither could she ask to return to all of those early hours of her idling away mothering; neither could she have— 
the very same heavens, gobbled up by whatever had exhumed itself from the bowels of the earth. In the coming fortnights, ash would drift from the clouds, and she might mistaken it for sullied snows. 

"You sound very assured in your assumption,"  she mused, though not at all rueful; the faint quirk at the corner of shorn lips spoke for itself. And though they indeed tread nearer to where mists and timbers alike thinned, she could not help but enquire further:  "In ze norths of my whelphood, my emerwen once told me that there are mountains, with great mouths which breathe forth ... red into ze skies, but ... there were never those sorts of makings where I lived. Not that I knew of, at ze very least."[/hover]  Could the present rouging of the clouds truly be such an occurrence?

She was never sure;
but Andraste looked to the great she-wolf all the same, considering what she previously told her:  "I do miss my norths ... and ze cold, as well, truth be told."