Moonspear The wind and I we speak the same but he don't hear too well
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Ooc — Jess
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A cool gale escorted the iceman as he passed through the small valley between the Spine and the foothills of Moonspear. To the slope where the earth was rocky and unsettled he went, noting now how much the snow had melted since the last time he had passed this way. The boulders, broken trees, uprooted bushes and a variety of earthen hues pulverized into powder were not visible as the sun warmed the land. Along the south side of the mountain in particular, the snowline had retreated in the growing hours of daylight. He began on the north side, where the air was still cool, and the majority of the mountain shaded in the evenings, but even still it was warm enough for the mountain to show signs of awakening again after a brutal winter. 

He would spend the night on the mountain after searching through the uneven terrain that shifted underfoot as he went. What might have been solid land once was now a pitch of scree and shale that was loose and skittered down the mountainsides with every step he took. The small stones reflected the years of pressure and waves of minerals that had been present in the ground at the beginning of time when the mountain had first pierced its way into the atmosphere. Fascinating to see the change in stone, fascinating to see how something so old could be turned into something almost unrecognizable in an instant. 

He sought that which he had been searching for since he had arrived. And now, with the snow having melted and the daytime hours lengthened, he continued to scour the area of the landslide despite the taxing effort it took to move about on loose footing. Higher and higher he went- thinking that the source of the landslide must be where it was highest, but even when he reached the area, he found it impossible to approach. A jagged hollow carved into the side of the mountain, above a sheer drop. He would not be able to make his way up to investigate the point of impact unless he was an eagle. He tried, of course, but he could not reach it. 

He spent a night reflecting. He'd been denied the star that had fallen, but he contemplated perhaps if that was not what he was meant to find. Stubbornly, he still believed that it was his right to find that star, even though when he went out at night to check the area again, it seemed as though whatever fire the star had had, had burnt out. Perhaps, then, it was not that which he should seek. He spent the evening meditating, and reflecting upon the conversation he had had with Kukutux, and the encounters he had had with Raimo. 

He came to a fairly firm decision. 

And when he awoke the next morning, he found a sign in the snow- large, round pawprints left behind by a creature which had drawn near enough to investigate his trail without fleeing once it realized the foe that lurked nearby. His heart thrummed wildly inside his chest as he pursued the creature's tracks with his head lowered. A fine size, he thought, by the shape of the pawprints it left behind- and as he breached over a jagged portion of the hillside he caught sight of it below him. Like an avalanche, the snowbear hurtled toward it. Into the cerulean spring sky came a chorus of howls and screeches and snarls that would rebound off the mountain's curvature, mixing together to form an ugly cacophony of demise. Eventually, the sounds dissipated to a whisper, and the fight ended.
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The wind and I we speak the same but he don't hear too well - by Adrastus - March 17, 2021, 12:24 PM