In the north, spring was very different from how it was in Moladion. The changing of seasons did not bring a nice warm front and soothing rains; it only warmed enough for the glaciers to begin to melt and caused the waters to rise ever higher throughout the lowlands of the tundra. Small pops of color would spring up here and there as hardy wild flowers tried to breathe again, only to be torn up by the mouths of migrating elk or bison. In Moladion, the lands were gripped by a more temperate spring for the most part. Cool showers fed life back into the earth as the dead, winter colors turned bright with restored vigor. Younglings brought youthful innocence to the newly reborn world as they became curious enough to play outside of their homes. There was vivid life here and it was something Myrria was so unused to being a part of.

She felt like a foreigner, despite being born here, as she slowly jogged from the southernmost area of Lumira tundra into the depths of Enocra. Everything around her seemed different, despite not changing much in the three years she had been absent. Her memory lights up as she continues to pass through the shadowed forest, a large cropping of mossy boulders bringing back the distant thought of when she had passed through here looking for her father. She had been so young, so naive to believe that seeking him out would change anything. He wasn’t ever going to come back. If only she hadn’t wasted her time wandering over all of creation in search of him - then she wouldn’t have gotten lost in the frozen hell that was the arctic north.

But the past cannot be changed, no matter how harsh of a burn it has left on her heart. Perhaps because of that experience she has changed as well, so much that there is no hope of going back to her previous self. The unrelenting wilds outside of Moladion have hardened her like no one here could have. She was a survivalist and now she fears that what she did to stay alive out there will always remain with her. The things she had done… they were not good nor pretty to witness. How is she to so simply go back to a normal life - one of which she barely even knows of?

Her expression is disgruntled as her brows furrow downward and her lip wrinkles up. These thoughts are suffocating her mind, conflicting and causing turmoil to rise as she jogs through the dampened underbrush without reason. She had nothing to drive her this way, only that she didn’t want to be with her mother again so soon after the last time they met. Malleah was just another cause of the chaos in her mind, likened to her father but with more of an impression.

Muted gray paws stop atop a peculiar hill that rises amid the trees as her one good eye searches for the scent that has caused her to pause. It was fresh and carried in the spring winds with ease, the scent of one who could sustain her once more for at least another day or so. Her pink nose touches the ground as she begins to hunt for the den in which the babe lays, bringing her back down the hillock in a methodical path that winds her through the trees.