Emberflame Ridge Attawkǒnts

Ayovi stands vigil upon the snow-covered rock of their make-shift camp. The heralding stars now hover in the northern sky and mitoge rules in the sun’s stead, looking down upon the plains with a cold, unfeeling eye. Confident they are alone, the huntress turns back to @Skorpa, her usual warmth broken by eyes that brook a dour gleam.
“De forårsager begge denne. Jægers udfordring bandchef så græd grimt spil,” she shares what she has gathered.