Times were changing. The lands were changing again. Something had happened. A balance had been disrupted. Something south, to the east and a dream visitor had beckoned for help, the spirit (or god) weaving a story, their words fluctuating in and out. Pictures of lands in War's mind. Things she did not understand. Then she gasps, as the sight of the Summit is passed before her gaze.

Wardruna didn't want to go - but she must! A call is made to her pack, to announce her coming absence. She does not give time for Sheauga to join her. Wardruna knows her travels would take them far north. A suffering she did not wish the little woman to endure, after pushing herself hard to overcome Northfall's winter.

Wardruna was glad for it, for once she left the captivating Briar she had come to love, snow began to pour. Her mind still racing, a beckoning further to rise the heights of the Summit. Was Valhalla calling her, as it had done for her father? Would she too be swallowed by the mountain?

Each step she took was taking her breath away, literally. She staggered and hacked, the smell of sulfur made her think of the fires that had raged in the south, though she saw no flames! Further and further she claimed the heights. Following the footsteps of her father (and mother) before her.

At the top, she noticed the purple glow of the land, the snow taking odd the shade which blanketed everything in sight. What was happening to their world?