Qeya River your ivy grows

for @Faliya

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the qeya river runs black beneath its ice. where it all began.

blackfell stands at its edge, stiff of shoulder and squared with a glowering stare. and then, suddenly, he moves. his steps carving deep through the snowpack as he follows the edge, among where the trees begin to thin.

he stares out over the empty expanse of snow that surrounds the stretching river. it is cold and quiet without the presence of clan life, yet the caribou herd remains. a constant.

the raven above him circles, wings stretching wide against the pale sky. blackfell's dark crown turns upwards as he glimpses, only for crimson stare to turn elsewhere again. forever following after the fading scent of the girl, overstepped by elk print.

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