Firefly Glen a minty fresh death breath

@Antares or @Atlas, please. cameos and/or additional, skippable players are also welcome. takes place during the january blizzard, date flexible to accomodate timelines.

Lane was aiming for the Blackfeather Woods, but where she had actually ended up was anyone’s guess. She was south of the mountain chain, of that much she was certain. Although she had most certainly traveled here before, the landscape was unrecognizable, transformed by the unrelenting blizzard.

 The oppressive, frigid air ripped against Lane's fur, blasting the young medic from every direction. Stinging ice droplets pelted her face with every ruthless gust of wind. Each breath the young woman dragged in sliced a glacial path down her windpipe.

Having met the leaders of Ivory Rose, Lane was fairly certain they would agree to shelter her… if only she could find them. Lane squinted against the wintery onslaught, peering against the skyline for anything recognizable. A faint zigzag of mountains was visible on the horizon ahead.

Another mountain range? Did that mean she was approaching a pass? Or, perhaps, a glen?

Firefly Glen. The home of Toad Amelia the Master Storyteller, and of Holland the Self-Proclaimed Medic. The former acquaintance, Lane would love to see once again. The later, she could do without… but beggars couldn’t very well be choosers. Lane lifted her muzzle and howled for the wolves of Firefly Glen. If that was even where she was.

Her call ripped instantly from her muzzle, with such speed and ferocity that Lane wasn’t sure if she had even made a sound at all.