Lion Head Mesa forswear it, sight

Glacier eyes stray across the horizon—the weather has shifted but it is nothing like the mountains, nor the forests. Warmth still envelops them, though a shiver courses along her spine.

The children had been growing more boisterous in their words and motions. It was to be expected—not just with age, but also with the length of time their parents had been gone for. She often wonders of them both—a prayer whispered every so often in silence, and yet misplaced when she does not quite understand the Gods and Goddesses she has found herself beneath in this isolated paradise.

Quietly, the sun begins its descent.

Quietly, Nasima begins to hum softly to herself in her fortitude of loneliness.