Northstar Vale lightning

The days were growing colder. Frost, at times, could be seen before the sun touched the valley’s grass and Meadow worked at preparing Epoch for the best and for the worst of the winter months.

Today, her needs were a bit more complicated, but when the sing-song voice of ‘butts’ caused her to blink and stole her attention from task at hand, she noted with bemusement little Zosime hollering what would appear to be a word overheard—likely, much to the detriment of her parents.

Horrifically, though, she watched the fiesty girl practically stomp away some of the last resources autumn had to offer, and she shot forward, eager to distract and redirect. “Zosime!” She called to her, and though she was closer to their mother than anyone else, she was familiar with the children. “I didn’t quite catch what you were saying. Say it again?”