Mount Everfall wilted scenes for us who couldn't wait

His own ascent was slow, careful, methodical. Here and there, the man of the North would stop to examine the bounty these lands had to offer, noting which plants he found here and which he did not. Too early to be sure, Stjornuati would make no judgement on the medicines he found here, not yet. Somewhere in the land below, he would begin a cache, one that he would stock until their time here had come to an end.

When that would be was a question for the ages. He would make no insistance, air no grievances as he drew up beside his bróðir, droplets of water sliding from his whiskers to fall to the ground solidly below them. The forest that yawned wide lay quiet, unassuming, lying in wait for new souls to enter its embrace. A thrill of emotion slithered down his spine; anticipation.