Kildeer Rest propaganda you should fall for

much like a young doe, the graceful woman pauses in her trailing. her neck rising, and upon that slender neck, her face; beautiful, soft. silvered eyes like the moon paling upon the robust form of a darker male.

she turns her head just enough to see him, snow-glow catching along the ridge of her face.

then the doe steps closer, light and unpressed, lifting her head slightly so he can see her properly. not from here, her voice carries. it is a strong lilt, the same ute-flavor carried upon those voices belonging to those dear childhood friends she searched for.

@Ayovi, who's scent had died out farther back. much to ravah's dismay, and then @Sega. handsome, kind covah. and if ravah cared enough yet to investigate the scent of the southern-voiced stranger, she might smell him upon—but not yet.

she looks with narrowing eyes. looking to the faint imprint of his steps already fading where frost creeps in again.

i pass through.