Greatwater Lake the touch is cold

Opalia cannot recount the days.. it's all one terrible, miserable haze since her brother left this earth. She's thought about hurt and sorrow before, grieved, and missed the ones who had gone away from her horribly, even her ill-fated mother, but none compared to this for the pale-furred yearling. This cut deep, and there was no one left right beside her when she needed to pick herself back up again. Dacio, dead, and evidently, Praimfaya had fled when Opalia had not had the strength to go after her immediately.. so she had shut down, at best, and took her own time to come even this far.

The gona had howled her share of sorrows when she finally could finally lift her head enough to say so, ailing from the highest reach of Moonspear she would dare climb to for her lost loved one, and for the warrior she prized above the most--she had sung, of his loss, and his life at once. The gaping wound his absence left was nothing short of a shock to her entire system. She had always had him. Always, until now, he had either faced the world at her side or forged just enough ahead to give her the best route. Always.

But, finally, she had to do something besides ache and fester away herself. A short howl announced her trip past the Spear to look for Praimfaya, and Opalia cut a wandering path into the flatlands beyond. Her hours passed, muscles churning away at a cruising trot, and she only wanted to be so far away from everything that she didn't care right where it took her. At first, she had gone after chasing old trails, but at some point, she feared that she lost clear sight of them, obscured to the elements and muddied by other traffic, most likely.

By now, the daylight hours were waning, and she saw the lake begin to come into view. So long as nothing else stopped her, she trotted towards the shoreline for a drink.