Bramblepoint bide my time

Expected? Certainly this amount of destruction ought to be a surprise, lest her theorization on a witch’s curse be true. Annaliese narrows her icy gaze at the phantom, pondering the thought that this woman may be hiding secrets behind her poetic words.

Her reasonings make little sense for the foxfire, yet every fool is different—the phantom apparently runs with others. Faithful, to desire uttering words before a departure. Who’s protection? Annaliese presses for further information.

Everyone can fight against nature as much as they like, but the outcome will always be the same; you’ll lose. While Annaliese holds herself in high regard and is confident in surviving, she, too, knows where boundaries lay. If these storms do not take them, winter will pick off the already weak. Without food lingering around, they are doomed, all of them. That is why her mission is to make haste.

The Sunspire is unforgiving. It is worse there than it is here, with rock and trees falling anytime the earth shakes. There’s little to be found, and if you plan on heading east, that is where the smoke is thickest. This Taiga she speaks of is unknown, directional wise, but Annaliese advises what she knows.