Tormented Tarns i

She had traveled a long, long way. But this was the way of their kind, and she had reached the age in which leaving home had become equal parts desire and necessity. This place she had at last arrived to felt like another world. Home had always been a place one would never identify as bountiful. A cold, savage place. A white wasteland, to those unfamiliar with it. But Inge and her family had always known where to look in order to survive.

Ahead stood a string of mountains. Before that, the Tarns. It was a place almost entirely occupied by water, and Inge looked for the path that looked well-traveled. Following the trails of those that had done as she would now, she looked around her for any other wayfarers. What she saw instead was the webbed trees, and all of the things snared within. She would come close to some on the narrow strip she walked upon, but would not stop to investigate. Inge knew better than to believe she could be caught within such a thing, but neither did she want to interact with whatever had made such a thing.