Sawtooth Spire sometimes it's all confusing in a world so loud

As Wylla reached the peaks encircling Sawtooth's idyllic valley, she paused to look out over the world, painted in evening shades of pink and orange, and was surprised at the wave of nostalgia that crashed over her.

One glance at the jagged foothills reminded her why she never liked the Spire. For all the beauty and seclusion offered by the peak, those foothills still made her nervous. It was too easy to imagine Isa, Anselm, or Emmerich losing their footing and falling to an unpleasant death. No thanks. No amount of nostalgia could make up for that.

Rolling her eyes at her own paranoia, Wylla lowered her head and began to prowl along a familiar towpath that would eventually bring her to Windholme.