Larksong Grotto Moves west, flowers' shadows

The grotto was a welcome change from the snowy taiga for Sobo, who climbed with care down into the vibrant little forest. Overnight, all colour was leached from the lands, leaving white as far as his eyes could see. It was a light layer of snow, but a novelty to him, and it took some time for him to get over how it clumped between his toes and rode high upon his shoulders. Only this little gem remained untouched, and he wanted to find out why.

Perhaps, he thought, it had something to do with how enclosed the grotto was. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when his feet were on solid ground again, hoping the journey up would feel less perilous than his descent. He had a few hours still before he needed to head back if he wanted to be home before dark. He took a few minutes to get his bearings, sniffing gingerly at the bases of trees as he went for a sign of salvageable herbs. The frost and snow above wreaked havoc on the plants, but maybe the grotto was spared.