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.


h e a r t . t h r o b [kah]

you don't have to love me . . . you don't even have to like me . . . but you WILL respect me

Winter had laid claim to its kingdom at last. No more leaves shivered in the dry, skeletal branches; a milk-colored pall had drained the blue from the sky; each breath brought frost, clean and crisp, and the wind that combed over the land was deliciously clear and cold. This was Kirastasia’s element. She may not have been born on the tundras that her father called home, but ice ran through her veins. She’d been built for this. Her already voluminous coat had fluffed out more, a luxe silk coat that enrobed her in warmth. Her large paws flew with exquisite grace over the silvered terra. A season that usually warned predators of hard times had brought new energy to Kira’s maple windows. She needed to leave Malignant for a while. What better excuse than to see how Miss Kahlan was doing?

Though the princess had been wrapped up in Rom’s firebird glory, she had never once forgotten about her first love. She often let her mind wander back to those wise golden pools, the dusky fur that smelled of warmth earth after rain. For a while it had been too painful to linger on Kah-suffused daydreams. For all Kirastasia knew, her queen was still wrapped up in that brindle dog. What was his name, again? Kibble? Bunnyrabbit? Dirtbag?

Kira had tried to find Kahlan by Saw Tooth, but the she-wolf’s scent threaded out of the territory and toward the freelands. The ivory lass effortlessly tracked her beloved under the pale grey heavens, pretty muzzle hovering inches above the earth as she hunted so as not to miss even a shred of that perfume. A few snowflakes spiraled down and alighted upon her satin robes. Here and there were physical signs of Kah’s passage: a perfect indentation where one paw caressed the damp soil, a snapped twig where her lithe frame had pushed by. So close!

Usually a musical chorus would be playing in the air right now, but ice had mostly slaked over the river that fed into Staircase Falls. Its song was quieted beneath a diamond veneer . . . and here Kira finally lost Kahlan’s trail. Her skull rose back to its normal position, a frown on her maw. “Ka-ah . . .” she sang out softly, searching for the huntress.

why? 'cause I'm the boss!

【Heiress of Malignant – pining for Kahlan – daughter of Kershov x Queens – sister to Kavik – LSVK】


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