Luneshale Pass Desolation. [mp]

she'd taken to painting. not like the priests, but for herself, using dyes gathered elsewhere and her own time alone.

nala, brushed back into life on the dried stems of desert grass.

but the queen was calling, her voice urgent, and tavina descended grimly into the sands alongside the obsidian woman. "heatstroke, perhaps, highness. do you remember what we did for eset?"