Traversing through the Arctic was familiar to Faeline. Perhaps, a little too much so. A sense of nostalgia that crept up on her body was disconcerting, to say the least.

Such trivial emotion that was pleasant to most—she loathed it. The woman wanted nothing more than for the feeling to wane, as the snow is thawing under the springtide sunlight. Alas, things were not so simple; memories would remain, no matter how much she willed them to be forgotten.

Keeping Dimitri's remarks about Elysium and its portal in mind, she took quiet steps forward over the woodlands. Greenery had begun to spring from the ground, as buds were forming on the tree's limbs. Faeline relished the knowledge that soon, the famine and anguish of winter would ebb away and be replaced by the vivacity of spring.

The venture was far. She was unsure about how Rhydian felt—but Faeline's limbs were beseeching her for repose. Like hell would she allow that now—not when the end of their travels was finally drawing tantalizingly near. She pressed through the agony, ignoring the tremble of her joints and the wheeze that gripped her breaths.

At the scent of foreign wolves, she halted. Her lips parted with soft huffs, legs quaking in exhaustion. Here, Faeline said curtly, we're here.

Heart beating in her throat, she raised her head and released a loud cry, alerting the pack of her presence. If what she was informed of was true, there would be no skirmish—simply a conversation.

How asinine... the notion of such friendly wolves. No sense of defensiveness, no desire to maintain order. 'Anyone is welcome—' An open door policy. There was a modicum of doubt that remained in the back of Faeline's mind that this could truly be plausible. As, surely, it was an innate action to protect what's yours?

But, she would ignore it. For Morriva and Aedric, for Rhydian, she would gamble the risk.