Horizon Ridge Oversleepers international

She threaded south along the coastline for what felt like weeks, winter’s teeth at her back. The solitude was hard; she even sort of missed all the arguing. It was all she’d ever known, after all. But Harps didn’t turn back, not even when she missed her older sister so badly that it felt like a knife to the gut. Lele hadn’t wanted to leave dad and Spur, despite everything, but at least she’d taught Harps how to catch small game. Despite the season, the yearling never went particularly hungry.

Harps arrived in the Teekon Wilds without fanfare or any particular knowledge of her whereabouts. The wind-whipped coastline looked much the same as always as she kept going, not sure what she was looking for or if she would ever stop. Of course, she paused often to hunt or rest, though never for very long. There was an itch beneath her skin, some invisible force pushing her further and further from her past, toward an unknown future.

Presently, she trotted beneath the shadow of towering slab of rock, partially knocked down. Harps slowed and stopped, peering at it and wondering what could’ve destroyed a mountain, even a small one like this. Her copper eyes slipped back and forth as if looking for some sort of explanation, then they roved back up to the felled ridge. Harps had seen many landmarks on her travels, yet none had intrigued her like this.

She picked her way toward it, hesitated, then began to climb. Harps had been raised a nomad. Between that and her awful mother, she was made of tougher stuff than the average yearling. But she only made it halfway up the rocky slope before her muscles begged for a respite. She plopped onto her haunches, tongue lolling as she panted, shifting slightly to turn her back to the icy sea wind.