Wither we Wander

Coea strode through the faint dusting of snow that covered this far-northern land this late in the autumn, with the sort of casual indifference that only the arrogantly self-confident show when in a new place. Her gray-toned fur didn't stand out too badly even against the snow, being a vaguely stone-like color apart from the gold feathering along some of the edges, and she had brought with her neither jewelry nor armor to set her apart either.

She, unlike most of the females of her land, had chosen to leave home in order to bring her homeland's justice to those who needed it, in this lawless lands far from home. She'd been traveling for some time now, but she was young and strong, and if this continent did not seem right to stop on she would simply find another, and another, until the gods deigned to bid her to stop. A sign, that was all she sought.

And then it was there.

She stopped dead, beneath the autumn moon, her golden eyes sweeping over the silent lake in wonder. The crystalline natural ice sculptures were breathtaking alone, sparkling as they were with silver moonlight, but as her paws had first struck the frozen lake surface, color raced away from beneath them in a display that both magical and awe-inspiring.

"By Hera," she murmured aloud, and the words echoed mutedly back at her over and over from the ice sculptures before fading away. She'd have accepted a far less spectacular sign from her gods that it was time to stop, but it seemed they'd wished to make themselves very clear to her.