Witche had a plan. It might not be a good plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. So far she had been left to her own devices on her teeny-weeny island. It wasn’t a grand home but at least it was hers. She must say she was surprised, and a touch disappointed, that Lucifer hadn’t come knocking on her door. Perhaps he didn’t know where she was or maybe he was too busy feuding with the Desert queen. Or maybe he simply didn’t care? Either way he wasn’t the only potential threat prowling this cruel world. Witche had proved that she wasn’t a natural born fighter when she lost her first spar. However she was willing to keep getting her hooves dirty and hopefully learn. But honing a talent that wasn’t there would take time and until she was able to competently stand her ground she would need allies.

With limited choices in the ruins the palomino mare had taken to the sea and swam to the closest territory; the Peak. She had only heard rumours of the sisterhood but perhaps they would give her the time of day and consider her proposal. Walking to the base of the mountain Witche slowly cascades her eyes skywards. The way up looks uneven and difficult. Some of the pathways had turned to streams from the spring snowmelt. It would be a dangerous climb, one the crazy mare was not crazy enough to dare. Taking in a deep breath she utters a loud call into the air, “Sister’s of the Peak, I’ve some to offer you a deal...” Now she plays the waiting game, long ivory tail lapping impatiently against her flank. It was midday now and she was hoping to be back home before dark. Hopefully they won’t keep her waiting too long, that’s if they even deemed her worthy enough to have a response.