Silver Moraine get a move on

It had been nearly a month since her sudden but inevitable betrayal of the Redhawks; a month since she had been cornered by the wandering band of Tartok wolves, and a month since she'd let herself get swept up in her own doubts and fears. It hadn't hurt too much when she'd fled from the pack — Ikkuma hadn't thought about them that much while she'd escaped, and had been more focused on avoiding the cause of her misgivings. The wolves of Tartok were a hardy breed and once she'd yearned to be considered good enough for them, but since tasting freedom and experiencing life by her own rules, she'd adapted away from their teachings. The chance of seeing her siblings again — she thought of them and just knew she had to run.

And so she was here, creeping her way along a ridge of corrugated debris. The taste of rat was on her tongue, and it was foul, but she had been desperately hungry and could not find much else. Ikkuma didn't want to linger long in any one area lest she be found by one of the Tartok recruits, and she hoped to put as much distance between herself and their last known location to be safe. So she had been heading east, but as she crossed along the moraine she was forced to move steadily north with the curvature of the undulating earth, and soon she could see distant mountains.