Firestone Hot Springs mirror melts

His time of hunting down the nearby deer and herds had taken him far. He put Kvarsheim behind him, without second thought, scouting ahead at the scents that dragged him onwards. The primal drive to conquer territory and rip apart the information of its ecosystem drove deep. It took him away. He'd not left their pack as a family, no, but his presence was absent for a time. The call of the wild was stuck in his eyes some days, sitting at the heart of their den and burning through stones with his sight.

Then they should have expected that he would inevitably have trailed off to satiate this need. His skin was not ready for settlement. There was a world, and he would cross it. Taste it. The birds cawing, the crickets roaring, the winds beating: it all dragged him into its grasp. Nothing would stop it.

Tracking through the whitewater gorge, he'd bounded across it where the river came to a narrow. A scent of something foul came from its direction, and beyond it, he was met with stone that started to layer. And in it, his vision fell upon something small. A creature strange. Immediately, he fell into a pinned stalk. His eyes locked, his ears perked. Her scent touched him through the sulfur. He found her look deformed. Petite.