Duskfire Glacier The Fall of the House of Usher

They strode along in comfortable silence for a stretch of time, Masquerade slowing and stopping when Tulukiri did. Her head canted questioningly, though she quickly picked up on the sounds which had brought them to a halt. Like her cohort, she listened and tried to identify what they were hearing. Before she could arrive at any kind of conclusion, Tulukiri motioned them onward.

Soon after that, they came to a break in the trees. The ground sloped underfoot in a familiar way, Masquerade maneuvering as easily as a mountain goat as they approached a drop. It was fortunate that balancing came so naturally to her, because the astounding view below them captured her attention entirely.

Masquerade stared for a long time, her marigold gaze leaping from one beast to another, until she grew dizzy with it. She sipped in a breath, quivering with excitement and nerves in nearly equal measure. She could feel her heart thundering against her ribs, her whole body rocking and swaying to its rhythm.

Her companion’s voice earned an inquisitive glance. She followed Tulukiri’s eye line and spotted the pair of wolves in the distance. She wondered if they would make any kind of move while she was here to watch. Masque felt an unexpected flush of camaraderie and inclusion as her gaze swept from them back to Tulukiri.

This, she breathed, is awesome.

She could—and would, in fact—sit at rapt attention for hours.