A fine mist had risen during the night, leaving a silvery veil that obscured detail from the land as the sun blushed. The red ferns looked particularly red as they loomed out of the fog. Isomne had risen early, as was often her habit, and wondered if she might have some luck in her tasks today. Perhaps, she should do some hunting first, and then seek out pack mates if she could find them.
She stopped to drink at a rocky crevice that held rainwater, refreshing herself and thinking upon the day for a moment before starting it properly. Some considered a red sky at morning to be an ill omen, and she could certainly feel a chill on the land. The mists shifted silently all around, and it was easy to mistake a tree or bush for the shadow of a figure in the early-morning dusk. Surely, it was just a sign of autumn increasing its grip. It was always a strange time, the leaves losing their lustre and the land growing dark and falling into slumber as the year turned. Perhaps, spirits really did stir during these days, as some old stories claimed. If it were true, this certainly seemed like the right kind of place to run into them.
Shaking off the chill that ran down her spine, Isomne smiled and raised her head. She was a bard still, and what's more, she'd been tasked now with learning the history her new home had to offer. It would take a little more to scare her off. Still, she ought to at least take heed where she tread today. It as not easy to see the hidden depths and pitfalls.