Imp season

Unwilling to have dealt with the terrain of the swamplands any longer, the yearling had turned east,
toward’s that volcano Ricin had told her about. She moved between borders, giving owned land a
wide berth. There was plenty to explore, it’d be a great shame for her journey to be cut short by
others. As she crossed frozen rivers she found herself amongst steaming springs. It seemed she
was drawn to vapour, even subconsciously.

She’d thought that there would be more activity here, a haven in the dead of winter. She found
herself alone, with nothing but the hiss of steam and bubbling of water. She didn’t feel quite
comfortable enough to take a dip yet, though she gazed at the hot springs with a longing.
She’d wait for the right moment, as she often did.

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