Your search meanders. Distracted so by the sheer, inexplicable elegance of your very, very dear friend, it seems at first success might be better defined in terms of strengthening your bonds for the trials ahead.
But you are, after all, Druids (or Druid-adjacents) and in the end, nothing hidden by natural means was meant to elude you forever. A beat of wings catches your attention, and the beautifully stratified feathers of a turtledove flash like the frantic pulses of your hearts through this gentle snowscape.
Its holding something. A rune.
And like the sudden realization of a long buried love (but worse, actually) the ground it fled from trembles. Echoes of ancient pain run up your paws. A brilliant blue pulse nearly blinds you after so long in dim morning.
The fissures are spreading. This one, specifically, is spreading directly across your path. It is divisive and terrifyingly rapid, forcing you both to scramble back on opposite sides of the breach to avoid being swallowed.
With a startled cry the bird drops its rune.
Over the fissure.
Catth ut!A Voice cries in your mind, near frantic. If one of you jumps, now, you might just manage to do that…