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.

Refresh/Reload

Chase the Rainbow
IP: 68.62.100.132

Cotton candy painted eyelids flutter open slowly, striking coral optics go in and out of focus as the world sharpens and fades from view. Ailsa, was unknowingly, in a very dangerous situation. She was alone, separated from her group, apart from her tempest, and out in the open. Her very small physique curls instinctively, deep sea blues swirl into seafoam green along the nape of her neck, and the crown of her head, petering off into the softest of teals. Her ears twitch. Suddenly, Ailsa realizes she is alone.

Bright pink paws scramble under her rainbow painted physique, long slender legs move quickly upon too big paws and she stumbles, lurching forward and up too fast. She topples sideways and her paws move even faster as she tries to right herself. It works this time. Ailsa is on her feet. Unnatural eyes search the landscape. The earth here is covered in soft moss and boggy land. The air is hot, humid, and oppressive. Where was she? How did she get there alone? Panic fills the young girl. She couldnt remember anything. Where were her parents? This was not their kingdom.

The girl cries out softly, too young to think of the danger that the noise she makes could bring. Lost and alone, Ailsa backs up into a tree and sinks to her paws in the wet earth. She wails softly, and cries out for her mother.

what else could a lost pup do?

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