The, like all others, passed without incident. Warren had trouble concentrating while the sun lazily floated overhead and his vision was strained against its reflection off of the snow. He was trying to keep all of his birds in a row; The mental map of his trek through towards Whitebrim, compared to the mental notes of where he had fruitlessly searched already compared to where he should fruitlessly search, plus keeping his bearings, plus keeping his pace timed enough to get him to Whitebrim before Prauvaulient would leave, plus the deed of actually looking...
He breathed hard as he slipped into the snow, bracing himself against a withered tree and giving himself a few moments to rest. His body was finally giving out on him after weeks of pushing too hard despite the best efforts of his bed and the healers from the Grindstone. Only the elvaan had tended to him completely; Rinh'a was content to fix his shoulder but leave the bruises. He blinked hard and tried to remember who had tended to him the night he had won, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. His muscles had been knit together with aether but the bones remembered. Warren's vision danced across the mountainous horizon of Coerthas and for a moment the impossibility of his task set upon his heart like a ravenous dog to a steak.
Get up. You haven't been this way yet. Keep looking. You have to find something. Anything.
Gloved hands had pulled a bit of dried fruit from a pocket and he popped the morsel into his mouth before getting back to his feet. He told himself he would have a more complete break later, just a few more malms up the road. He'd never forgive himself if he missed his chance at driving into the deeper country.
He did it, chasing someone at night with none of the protection you're carrying. He got further than you could with all your amenities and you're relying on others to follow his trail.
Warren had already given up listening. He trudged on with the words in his ears and forced his mind to his plans. Stay on course. Check these hills. Make it to Whitebrim...
He breathed hard as he slipped into the snow, bracing himself against a withered tree and giving himself a few moments to rest. His body was finally giving out on him after weeks of pushing too hard despite the best efforts of his bed and the healers from the Grindstone. Only the elvaan had tended to him completely; Rinh'a was content to fix his shoulder but leave the bruises. He blinked hard and tried to remember who had tended to him the night he had won, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. His muscles had been knit together with aether but the bones remembered. Warren's vision danced across the mountainous horizon of Coerthas and for a moment the impossibility of his task set upon his heart like a ravenous dog to a steak.
Get up. You haven't been this way yet. Keep looking. You have to find something. Anything.
Gloved hands had pulled a bit of dried fruit from a pocket and he popped the morsel into his mouth before getting back to his feet. He told himself he would have a more complete break later, just a few more malms up the road. He'd never forgive himself if he missed his chance at driving into the deeper country.
He did it, chasing someone at night with none of the protection you're carrying. He got further than you could with all your amenities and you're relying on others to follow his trail.
Warren had already given up listening. He trudged on with the words in his ears and forced his mind to his plans. Stay on course. Check these hills. Make it to Whitebrim...
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
