Yllestad, Glacia, Thursday Evening (Fandom Time)
The stay at Yllestad had really helped. Not only had they had a change to relax and recharge after the debacle with the bespelled landens, but they'd also gotten a chance to bond with the townfolk, who hadn't been entirely keen on an army encamped on their doorstep, especially not one that included landens. But her army had been courteous and friendly (and eager to spend money), and soon the relations between the two sides had gone from strained acceptance to something akin to friendliness.
Karla didn't think there were going to be any mixed landen-Blood social gatherings after she left Yllestad, but she was telling herself that baby steps were important here. Baby steps.
Even Yllestad's Queen and First Circle were starting to warm up. When they'd first arrived, Queen Vika had been standoffish--not from dislike, but fear. Karla didn't take it too personally; there were plenty of reasons why even a northern Queen would rather not have the disputed Queen of the Territory spending time within her walls. And by the third day there, Vika had relaxed a bit, as if whatever shoe she'd been expecting to drop hadn't appeared after all.
The camp was readying to leave in the morning and Karla had taken the rare opportunity to go for a walk in peaceful territory. She just wanted a few minutes alone in the woods, to commune with the land sleeping undisturbed beneath a blanket of snow, away from the hustle and bustle of a busy camp that could sometimes press in on even the most serene soul--which Karla certainly was not.
She'd been idly wandering, occasionally bouncing a mental message back to camp to let them know that, yes, she was still fine after having traveled another hundred or so yards by herself, when she came onto an odd glade to the southwest of Yllestad. Trees had been cut down to make it larger, she could see where the trunks had been left to rot in the woods around it. And as soon as she stepped inside, the sleepy murmur of the land turned to something else--something distinctly uneasy. Restless. Dangerous.
*Send me Raven and Warren!* she snapped. *Quickly, please!*
Her Black Widow senses were buzzing now. She wanted to cry, to scream, and she wasn't sure why. There was pain here, grief and loss, terror and rage. It brought her to her knees and there, moved by instinct, she began digging in the snow. Ignoring the wet seeping through her pants and gloves, she kept digging until she managed to clear a few feet of empty ground. No...not empty. There were wilted plants there, mostly brown and scraggly, but still very much alive.
Witchblood. Karla was kneeling in an entire field of witchblood.
[For them as is mentioned, please! NFB.]
Karla didn't think there were going to be any mixed landen-Blood social gatherings after she left Yllestad, but she was telling herself that baby steps were important here. Baby steps.
Even Yllestad's Queen and First Circle were starting to warm up. When they'd first arrived, Queen Vika had been standoffish--not from dislike, but fear. Karla didn't take it too personally; there were plenty of reasons why even a northern Queen would rather not have the disputed Queen of the Territory spending time within her walls. And by the third day there, Vika had relaxed a bit, as if whatever shoe she'd been expecting to drop hadn't appeared after all.
The camp was readying to leave in the morning and Karla had taken the rare opportunity to go for a walk in peaceful territory. She just wanted a few minutes alone in the woods, to commune with the land sleeping undisturbed beneath a blanket of snow, away from the hustle and bustle of a busy camp that could sometimes press in on even the most serene soul--which Karla certainly was not.
She'd been idly wandering, occasionally bouncing a mental message back to camp to let them know that, yes, she was still fine after having traveled another hundred or so yards by herself, when she came onto an odd glade to the southwest of Yllestad. Trees had been cut down to make it larger, she could see where the trunks had been left to rot in the woods around it. And as soon as she stepped inside, the sleepy murmur of the land turned to something else--something distinctly uneasy. Restless. Dangerous.
*Send me Raven and Warren!* she snapped. *Quickly, please!*
Her Black Widow senses were buzzing now. She wanted to cry, to scream, and she wasn't sure why. There was pain here, grief and loss, terror and rage. It brought her to her knees and there, moved by instinct, she began digging in the snow. Ignoring the wet seeping through her pants and gloves, she kept digging until she managed to clear a few feet of empty ground. No...not empty. There were wilted plants there, mostly brown and scraggly, but still very much alive.
Witchblood. Karla was kneeling in an entire field of witchblood.
[For them as is mentioned, please! NFB.]