[center][h3]── [i]ykka & nadira[/i] ──
[b]── •⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅• ──[/b][/h3][/center]

It took nine days for the Red Witch to finish her dream. 

First she molded a heart from phosphene sparks in the black of sleep, then she hammered a body from the incoherence to house it. Like weaving rope from sand, she shaped her dream, sculpting forms out of incense that rose off censers full of burning mugwort and smoldering sage. 

For more than an age it had been rare for the Sidereal Sisters to share the sieve of their dreams, but in the communality of their vision they saw themselves as they were in times older than the kenning of men, when they ran wild through primeval forests alight with their stories and song. Nadira heard many voices in those dreams, though only half-remembered. Words relating signs and portents and prophecy. 

Then silence.

In the hinterland forests far to the north of Stavkat, long days of rain turned the earth into treacherous mud. Water hung in gossamer threads from pine needles and tree branches, spiderwebs glittering across every surface where the light caught them. Great conifers and other towering gymnosperms spread their arms in a canopy of spruce and fir a hundred meters high. 

Precious little light broke through to the underbrush save for here or there in heavenly rays, and all was quiet in the darkness save the steady drumbeat of the storm skald whose thunderous laughter rolled through the land at intervals in the downpour. The shadow of wings swept through a shaft of light, razor talons cutting through the silence and the life of some small woodland creature too slow as it scurried to safety along the forest floor. Tiny black eyes peered out from the harpy eagle's gray-white plumage, and water slid off the black brim of its flat-topped capotain. 

Mantling itself with its great wings, it tore apart and devoured its prey, a vole or some other rodent. It stood beside a tomblike niche dug in the soft mud, half-hidden by leaves and rocks, covered in the scratchmarks of fox claws. Next to the raptor a stream babbled softly as it coursed over smooth stones. The air was heavy with the aroma of burning rosemary and coriander. 

A fox creature washed the smell of smoke and ritual from itself in the freezing creek, then slipped into a traveling robe. It turned to peer through the shrubs at its companion and Nadira's eyes gleamed golden in the half-light.

[color=f7976a][b]"Dear Ykka, my dreams leave me ill at ease. There are whispers in the Court of odd things stirring,"[/b][/color] she said. [color=f7976a][b]"We'll make to depart once you've finished your meal. The road to Lundros is long and, from the looks of things, wet."[/b][/color]