They don't come to Taiga often. Aela and her mother often spend the majority of their time along the borders of Hyaline and her mountains, the River and Loess - one of Beqanna's many kingdom trinities. The golden girl prefers not to get too close to the River (chaotic things, rivers and streams and oceans) but she doesn't mind when they follow it to the Common Lands. The open space of the Meadow or the quiet of the Forest is preferable to what happens when she comes close to another ghost.
For reasons she doesn't understand (or yet know), they keep coming back to Taiga. The Northern forest itself is calm and still; Aela doesn't mind so much that they are there. But why not go further North? There are rumors (or so she sees from the spirits) of monsters and Magicians. Of queens and dragons. It's enough to make any youngster curious, even one as cautious as Aela. So when they return to Taiga, Aela drifts through mist - North.
(She had approached the Mountain for similar reasons; she had felt the Magic stirring and singing and dancing beneath that stone precipice. She feels it humming in her chest now, like she is entering the epicenter of something powerful.)
The moorlands are vast and open, like she's seen from borrowed memories. Glimpses of proud ledges, sweeping views of the gently rolling terrain of Nerine becomes real when Aela's blue eyes finally take it in for herself. The yearling had traded Taiga's fog (though the scent of pine and fir still cling to her gilded skin, a dampness she can't seem to shed) for this vision before her. The chestnut filly stops on one knoll to watch the heather and meadowgrass sway in wave-like motions, a veritable sea before her with the actual one crashing against the rocky coast in the distance. The noon sun is pleasant and warm, making this memory all the more appealing to the mute girl.
Even better, she was alone. No ghosts in sight.
For reasons she doesn't understand (or yet know), they keep coming back to Taiga. The Northern forest itself is calm and still; Aela doesn't mind so much that they are there. But why not go further North? There are rumors (or so she sees from the spirits) of monsters and Magicians. Of queens and dragons. It's enough to make any youngster curious, even one as cautious as Aela. So when they return to Taiga, Aela drifts through mist - North.
(She had approached the Mountain for similar reasons; she had felt the Magic stirring and singing and dancing beneath that stone precipice. She feels it humming in her chest now, like she is entering the epicenter of something powerful.)
The moorlands are vast and open, like she's seen from borrowed memories. Glimpses of proud ledges, sweeping views of the gently rolling terrain of Nerine becomes real when Aela's blue eyes finally take it in for herself. The yearling had traded Taiga's fog (though the scent of pine and fir still cling to her gilded skin, a dampness she can't seem to shed) for this vision before her. The chestnut filly stops on one knoll to watch the heather and meadowgrass sway in wave-like motions, a veritable sea before her with the actual one crashing against the rocky coast in the distance. The noon sun is pleasant and warm, making this memory all the more appealing to the mute girl.
Even better, she was alone. No ghosts in sight.
AELA
she had a marvelous time ruining everything
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@[Wherewolf] she's here to chomp- i mean, say hello to wolfey <3