Overture Downs not my friend but i wont say no

Gjalla’s breath curled in the air, wisps of warmth swallowed by the cold that encased the clearing. The stranger’s voice reached her, gravelly and weary, like the crack of stones against an ancient riverbed, and it mirrored the same exhaustion etched in his frame. His presence, while unfamiliar, did not unnerve her—it was the exhaustion hanging off him like a tattered cloak that pulled at some distant, well-guarded corner of her heart. It was a comfort, to see one with pains that mirrored herself. She didn’t move, save for the flick of her tail, ears angling toward him as she drank in his words with a muted sense of intrigue.

Her lips curl into a contemptuous sneer, huffing the start of a laugh through her nostrils as she sets her gaze on the distant pearly gates. “I do. Though I've never heard of this Brightreach.” She suppresses the desire to gloat at the fact. Brightreach. A name so positive nearly promised discontent, as if it had a way of leeching the color from things. She'd had plenty experiences with kingdoms hiding beneath the guise of ivory and gold, though hollow at their heart. There was a coldness to her, a frost over the surface of her being, but even she couldn’t bring herself to be so unbearable.

“A good thing, I trust?” she pressed, her voice quieting as she took a step forward, rounding his quarter like she was sizing up her next meal, paws leaving faint imprints in the frost-dusted ground. A pity she wasn’t yet hungry. Her lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile but something close, a faint acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all. Her tail flicked once behind her, sweeping a thin line in the snow.