Cassiopeia's View The hand of Gods

On the return trip she followed the mountains, wondering if she would see anyone familiar along the way. The smell of sulfur persisted and the sky, having grayed, remained smog-filled as she dispersed; the mountainside was steady here and left Ibis wondering what chaos had befallen the more northerly peak. Better not to speculate. She had to head home regardless — Lilitu would be worrying.

Along the way she climbed the lower paths of the range, taking this time to reach as far as she dared on her hunt for those she was left missing. By happenstance she crossed a gap in the snow that smelled of wolf; the paw-tread was wide, and Ibis' first thought was of her husband who was still absent. Had he come this way recently? His scent would be different — no longer carrying her own mark, nor Wraen's — not that Ibis could discern much with the sulfur stench hanging in the air too.

She turned and began to follow this path. Her nimble steps gave her stride a deer-like quailty as she hopped from spot to spot, filling those massive prints with her much smaller ones. When a shape came in to view it wasn't because Ibis had been successful in her hunt.

The stranger was standing still and watching the distant mountain, where there was smoke rising on the horizon. Their dark coat only moved to the slightest crisp breeze. This wasn't Akavir; but it was too late now to do anything about that.