When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.


You're my starlight [Open/any]

She was a weary traveller. She had been roaming for days, not quite sure what she was looking for or where she was going.

Adrastea turned her honey-colored head, her golden gaze sweeping her surroundings carefully. Being alone was beginning to wear on her. She had always taken for granted the comfort of being in a pack. Now that she was alone and far from home, it seemed that every shadow was a potential threat and every snapping twig was an omen of danger ahead.

She needed to find someone, anyone, that she could trust.

The water rushed over her paws as she stood in the shallows at the top of one of the falls. Something about this place brought her comfort and courage, and eased the soreness of her wearied feet.

Andrastea could smell the scent of other wolves who had been in the area recently, and she was hoping someone kind might still be hanging around.

Of course, she couldn’t yet know who or what might find her here, open and vulnerable on her own.


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