Firestone Hot Springs rocks

once more, wintersbane wanders. though he doesn't deign to stray too far from the spire and the young boy left abandoned by his mother; wintersbane is drawn from the heavenward spires of his home by the season in its last throes. he's desperate, feeling cheated by what andraste's death had cost him and jealous of the prosperity of his fellow co-leaders during this fruitful season. thoughts are distracted and he only surfaces at the cloying heat of the hot springs, curling the longer wisps of fur at his nape and the tickle of a familiar intoxicating scent. it lures him into the depths of the territory, towards the woman that emits it without care, without caution.

the warrior king of the spire lets out a low chuff to announce his presence to her, hoping she beckons him nearer.