Thrúd — Ranger 1/5

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trees towered above, ancient evergreens coated in a thick layer of snow that weighed heavy on their branches. this land was still unknown, and with morwenna reunited with fa'liya, the norsewoman took it upon herself to scour ahead.
they could do with the privacy. even if it twisted her gut with a quiet, unfamiliar ache.
she misses her children. the tiny faces she’d never get to see grow, the lives she’d never get to touch. fa’liya deserved this time with her mother.
the forest pulses beneath, the trees, and the wind connected—waiting, watching, alive. faces had been few and far between. but surely, such a land was not so abandoned.

from one forest to the next, thrúd wandered.

thrúd moves through the snow with little intent behind it—wandering for the sake of wandering, fur heavy with frost, lungs stinging with each cold breath she draws in. she does not mind the solitude—never has. a trait that runs in the family; they prided themselves on self-sufficient people—so says mother, at least.

distantly, a fresh scent hits her nose, mingling with the ice that dries a cold nose. her head lifts, curious, but nothing—yet, she feels it—something on the edge of the air, watching, waiting.

a second stir of wind, a ripple in the snow. a blur of white and gray, moving. stranger.