Northstar Vale lost in a labyrinth and left with no way out

Were she a god fearing woman, she would have said the mountains called her for a reason, a possibility of laying down roots the monochrome thief had no means of doing. She was an afterthought, the bitterness that comes after a shot of strong liquor, the burn you couldn’t quite shake without another.

But she had long learned not to fear the gods, but she did despair at their empty absence. So instead, she told herself she wanted to climb the mountain because of just that. She wanted to, so she would. So she had. And after three days of slipping and sliding down the rock faces, her paw pads growing worn and throbbing painful, she decided she didn’t much like the peaks anymore than the wilds beneath them. She was lightheaded and dizzy more often than not, and it wasn’t helped as she climbed further in elevation, then rapidly descended when she found she couldn’t breathe. High altitudes would take some getting used to.

Then, at around midnight, days after her ascent for the peaks, she stepped into the Vale. Baby blue eyes found the peaks again, then the veritable bounty nestled between them, paws sinking into soft, plush grasses. She bounced experimentally. Yeah, it was grass. Good to know. Nephele idly dragged herself forward, placed her paws on the bank of one of the water features, and proceeded to stick her entire face into it. The cold mountain water woke her from her stupor, and she pulled her head back enough to drink, before stepping into the water to soothe her aching paw pads, a bemused expression on her scarred features.