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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Featuring Phalantha
Spring, Year 775 of the New Age
Silverwood, Silverthorne

The rain was tireless, it’s dampness cold and clinging. There was only so long one could cope with being wet; a day, two days - sure; but this weather front was persistent. Phalantha was blessed to be a woman who carried a little extra padding; her edges were always soft and round. Insulation was plentiful upon her bones, and it meant she was relatively resistant to the cold. Much of the herd were working around the clock to keep The Winter Flame burning through the downpour, and those who weren’t were huddling close to it for warmth. She had loitered there briefly, but quite frankly the closeness to so many was far from her idea of comfort.
When the torrents of water had eased momentarily, and a small break appeared in the clouds, the heavy woman sauntered away from the gathering of the herd in search of better grazing and a moments solitude. It was more of a hike than she had anticipated, as shallow blankets of water trickled across the surface of the earth anywhere that wasn’t particularly high ground. She would pause above the occasional small earth-mound, nipping away the tops of the grasses before continuing onwards. Lane wasn’t much for walking long distances, however it seemed the occasional interruption of green grass was enough to distract her from the true expanse of her travels.
Her distance from the Ash Plains only became apparent when the heavens once again opened following an ominous crack of thunder. The rain increased in intensity so rapidly it was hard for the well-built Doe to navigate the area with much accuracy. Rounded ears flattened to the curve of her poll as she attempted to blink the dripping water from her umber eyes. Close by, a faint flicker of light could be vaguely made out within the darkness of a cave; chiseled roughly into a lone hillside. Stranger danger aside, Phalantha hurried into the mouth of the shelter.
After an insouciant shake of her head to rid the water from her gaze, Lane glanced with a casual curiosity towards the small, burning campfire. If she hadn’t have felt so comforted by the assumption this stranger was also a Silverthorne, she might have been a little off-put by the vague silhouette of thick limbs in the darkness. Occasionally, if the fire blinked in the right way, the amber light would illuminate a bearded muzzle.
Who could it be?

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Featuring Phalantha
Spring, Year 775 of the New Age
Silverwood, Silverthorne

The rain was tireless, it’s dampness cold and clinging. There was only so long one could cope with being wet; a day, two days - sure; but this weather front was persistent. Phalantha was blessed to be a woman who carried a little extra padding; her edges were always soft and round. Insulation was plentiful upon her bones, and it meant she was relatively resistant to the cold. Much of the herd were working around the clock to keep The Winter Flame burning through the downpour, and those who weren’t were huddling close to it for warmth. She had loitered there briefly, but quite frankly the closeness to so many was far from her idea of comfort.
When the torrents of water had eased momentarily, and a small break appeared in the clouds, the heavy woman sauntered away from the gathering of the herd in search of better grazing and a moments solitude. It was more of a hike than she had anticipated, as shallow blankets of water trickled across the surface of the earth anywhere that wasn’t particularly high ground. She would pause above the occasional small earth-mound, nipping away the tops of the grasses before continuing onwards. Lane wasn’t much for walking long distances, however it seemed the occasional interruption of green grass was enough to distract her from the true expanse of her travels.
Her distance from the Ash Plains only became apparent when the heavens once again opened following an ominous crack of thunder. The rain increased in intensity so rapidly it was hard for the well-built Doe to navigate the area with much accuracy. Rounded ears flattened to the curve of her poll as she attempted to blink the dripping water from her umber eyes. Close by, a faint flicker of light could be vaguely made out within the darkness of a cave; chiseled roughly into a lone hillside. Stranger danger aside, Phalantha hurried into the mouth of the shelter.
After an insouciant shake of her head to rid the water from her gaze, Lane glanced with a casual curiosity towards the small, burning campfire. If she hadn’t have felt so comforted by the assumption this stranger was also a Silverthorne, she might have been a little off-put by the vague silhouette of thick limbs in the darkness. Occasionally, if the fire blinked in the right way, the amber light would illuminate a bearded muzzle.
Who could it be?