Sunspire Mountains Are you my brother?

Epoch had, in many ways, become a quiet place of reflection, it felt. Days had turned to weeks—and while Meadow did not trust the silence, there was a certain reprieve in it.

So during a casual lope along the borders, she was surprised to see a youthful man, reclined nearby—poised in a seated position, waiting. She watched him a moment, studying the darkness of his pelt, the way in which he held himself.

Only when the breeze shifted and potentially revealed her presence to the stranger did she croon a greeting, honeyed eyes resting to his features, and trying to ignore the temptation of two rabbits sitting at his paws… torn between hunger and nausea. “Hi, there,” she offered.