Silver Moraine picture i'm a dreamer, i'll take you deeper

nothing made sense.
athalia had never really left bearclaw after she'd first found it; she had especially never gone beyond the reaches of the rising sun, and yet here she was. she was mostly positive she was going north, judging by the changes in the foliage from aspens to hardy conifers, and now, almost nothing at all save for permafrost. her head swims and her stomach roars with hunger.
every five minutes, she glances over her shoulder.
perhaps a break was what she needed. only a few days, the bruingirl told herself; only long enough for that suffocating, maddening compression on her chest to ease, to feel that yearning for home again. her sisters — a term she was still growing used to — were a little older now, better at handling themselves. she could do this. she was allowed to step away. bearclaw would be there, waiting.
and she did need this, this distance, deciding so as she crosses into the stony hills of a land that was completely and utterly foreign. she yearned to tell someone what was going on, these these these thoughts and visions and sounds that plagued her — but who in bearclaw could she tell? certainly not ameline, or ancelin, as much as they tried to understand and empathize with her. for as she aged and grew closer to yearling-hood, she was beginning to understand something about herself.
she was different.
and the only other person she knew who was different in the same way was @Sobeille.
she remembered not where sobeille was from, only that she had come from the sea, and the sea was north. if she called from here, would her voice be heard? would it be recognized?
why was she nervous?

i know we haven't wrapped our old one yet but i couldn't help myself i needed the weird gay wolves OOPS