Despite crawling to the Peak to make her mark, settle and find a nook to call hers, to keep trinkets and little bits and pieces (and maybe even literal pieces of others) in her own space without being at the mercy of another, Maraigh knew she had more to explore. Each island, each one different and of its own. She wanted to learn about them all individually and know their lands, not by just name but sight and smell. To know who called them home, and those who wandered like she did.

Bruised from her fighting but stepping without hesitation, as she did not felt the injury to herself, the woman made her way along the edge of the Inlet, after having made the swim. Water was strange to her, being embraced by it. She could feel it, feel it like something touching her but not quite registering what it was. It could have been anything, she was unsure of the true feeling.

She swam none the less, and here she was. Knowing better than to brashly wander through claimed territory, Maraigh walked the outside, smelling and seeing old tracks. She ventured a short way in, on edge and ready to fight if need be - flight was out of the question - and as she had been readying to go to the next, a sound distracted her. It was quiet, she couldn’t make out who it was and how close they were.

It was curiosity that killed the cat, as she turned towards it with a curious but guarded expression, wondering who it was and if it was someone of this territory…