Spirit has taken to wandering since the snows out west turned purple, deadly, magic spilling into the lands like an ex-lover coming to smash your car. There was no refuge south either, the lands either having poison water that begs you to drink it in, and a miasma that sends beings into rages.

They weren't interested in dying to a magic plague, thank you very much. This body was fine as it was, capable of speech, free. If she died now, she might wake up again as a human or worse a pet. Those were the worst lives, their rage being mistaken for rabies, humans putting them down with various objects.

This body...well, it was starting to get up there in years, somehow. Old age was creeping closer, a feat she's yet to properly achieve, it might be nice if this life is the first. It's lonely, but since arriving in Mythris she's yet to kill anything sentient, so...it's fine.

But it was that loneliness that had them here, sitting just a bit away from these pack borders, waiting for a patrol to come by instead of howling an announcement. Spirit knew there should be one coming around...at some point..given the scents were starting to grow stale, so no need to send anyone rushing this way to meet a stranger.

So they sat, Solas on their back and snoozing the rest of the day away.

....maybe they should have waited until morning.