Luneshale Pass Only angels fall

no spring lamb, this one. soto's eye apprises her, glittering with approval as she freezes. he can sense the gears within her churning; each synapse sparking off into another.

cat.

he lowers his head in acknowledgment, a single paw upturned palm up in the universal gesture of your move.

she is warrior; but she must also learn that danger comes in many forms.

 it is an art to dissuade peril from darkening your doorstep.