It Gets Old When You Talk To The Sun

Karabela had gone as far north as she could go. Mist spilled from her mouth and she panted, legs pushing her stubbornly higher and higher. The wind was cold and bitter and the terra around her still spoke of winter and she half wondered if it ever saw spring this high up. The wind continued to whip around her. Karabela shivered. Well, she'd wanted to see how far she could go and she certainly had but perhaps it was time for her to head back to Abaven. She'd been wandering for awhile, waiting for the pieces in her head to fall into place. The sun moved from behind the clouds sending it's light fracturing through the ice spires and sending silhouettes of light and shadow sparking across the snow. Ok… she could linger here a bit longer.

"Speech"