Broken Antler Fen The nights are colder now

the call rose, the sound unfamiliar, seeking praimfaya specifically. her guard hairs bristle, thinking that it is one of the rusalkan crone's wolves having found them. yet still, the worlida makes her way towards where the call come from: steps quieted in an effort to mask her initial approach. yet, her hostility is proven unwarranted as frostbound gaze searches through a gap in the thickening underbrush to the familiar form of pool. though their encounter had been brief, praimfaya remembers assisting the older woman with her shoulder and the attempted recruitment.

the tauntness in her shoulders melts away as she shrugs thru the thick bramble and makes her presence know with a proud, imperious tilt of her muzzle. hei pool, praimfaya greets the woman, ears alert for the sign of dacio's — whom was never too far away — potential approach. you've found roangeda, an amiable wag of her tail is given. what brings you to our borders? the worlida inquires.

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