The Heartwood Where death divides, life provides

Amalia found herself near the heartwood again. It was barren, ash. And yet she could see the little inklings of what was to be reborn. The grasses that though sparsely set would peek their tiny heads out from soot and dust. The small bugs and other such cretaures that were turning the dead plants into something more, and then the birds that ate such bugs.

Yes it was fascinating. And it was with those thoughts in mind, that she walked among the tall dead trees. Skeletal beings of what they once were, but none the less beautiful in their own right.

Qadira had left the village for a time, just to explore more. She was ranging when she caught the scent of another, an allied woman. She was quite far from the village. Qadira sought to protect her from whatever the wilds might bring to them, especially in this barren place. When jadestone eyes fell upon the dark coat of the Natigvik villager, Qadira called out, "Hail. Madam, you are far from the village. It might not be safe here."

Amalia heard a voice called and she turned surprised. She had thought she had been the only one around. She didn't know her name, but she had seen her in passing on moonglow.

She waved inky brown spotted plume. Hi!

Green eyes traced over the warrior with kindness. She moved foward so she wasn't moving so far.