Redhawk Caldera Incoming Storm

Bronte sat by the great lake that settled in the caldera. Her young bourbon eyes stared out, past the silver waters, towards the semi ring of jagged slopes beyond. Time seemed to have moved slowly since her fathers passing. At least, to her it had. Nothing she or anyone seemed to do, helped her spirit. The wound was still raw and deep. She still cried herself to sleep at night, searching in vain for the lost warmth of his embrace.

The Blackthorn did not yet understand, that grief took it's time.

She slumped down limply onto a raised rock, while dismally pondering what lay beyond the toothy rim of her home. Wondering if she would ever know happiness again.