Nova Peak Splitting

The air temperature was just above freezing, mists furling around the foot of Dragon’s Back Ridge as Masquerade made their way there. They mused that it must be the sleeping dragon’s breath, though the thought was cut off by a hideous pulsing in their temple. They clenched their teeth and hastened toward the familiar overhang, where they promptly dropped and curled into a ball.

Their skull continued to pound, the nth splitting headache since the altercation with the thief. It had officially soured their temper by now, to the point where Masquerade had snarled at a younger sibling earlier today. That was why they were here now, staring out at the slowly swirling fog for a moment before their eyes began to ache too and they slipped them shut.