As winter departed, the greenery that'd once been dormant began to rouse. Trees began to bud before flourishing, embellishing the once-bare branches with blossoms of pinks and whites, shedding pale petals onto the verdant ground. Exuberantly, Cvetka chased after them as they fluttered through the sky. Jaws clicking together as she tried to grasp them between her teeth, often failing—their fleeting presence evading her playful nips. All the while, she relished the feel of lush foliage finally caressing her limbs once again. No longer was the grass so brittle, shifting from a wan ecru back to vibrant greens.

And long before she realized it, she was far past Elysium's borders. Surrounded by unfamiliar trees, unfamiliar smells—when she finally realized her predicament, her ears dipped downward and she knitted her brows into a scowl; this wasn't the first time she'd done this, in fact, it was getting quite repetitive. For a moment, she felt a modicum of irritation with herself. Her forelimb remained weakened from the several long weeks of inactivity; just about the worst possible time to consistently get herself lost. And even if she were just as able-bodied as she was before landing in Mythris, she was still pathetically frail.

The rosy wolfdog sauntered through the woods, nose twitching against the foreign scents that wafted in tandem with the breeze. Her once airy gait grew wary and swift, from joyful trots to timid strides. It was no-man's land. If some inadvertent force renders her unable to move, just like she had been in the midwinter, there would be no pretty knight in shining armor to scoop her away from peril.

Cvetka pressed through a wall of undergrowth, gingerly stepping into a clearing. Green with shrubbery, speckled by flowers that bloomed from the ground. It all shimmered against the sunlight, damp with dew. For a fleeting moment, she held her breath—at least it was pretty, where she'd decided to go astray.

A part of her wanted to call out—but, for what? Help? Company? And to whom? A stranger? A predator? The idea was abandoned as quickly as it was considered. Instead, she settled on her flank with a resigned huff, surrounded by the Glade's trees. Her nose gently shifted against the flowers, diverting her attention to each little petal instead of the situation that she'd put herself into.