[Scae Mount]

She wakes to thunder. She wakes naked, and alone, 'neath a gently raining black sky. With a breath, she draws the shadows close. With ancient fingers she draws skin around herself, flesh, meat to hide, and with a word she binds it there. The darkness gathers cloth to her, a ragged cloak round her body.

She is Adalia again. The mountain mother walks to the edge of the Mount's highest cliff, a disheveled spectre. One more temporary hideaway. One more lost place, she thinks with a scowl.

Lightning flashes at her flank, and she flinches not a micrometer. It illuminates elfin ears, ragged, spiky hair the color of dried blood. Eyes old as the world.

She stares down into the city below, fists clenched. There's blood in the air.

Maybe this is what the mountain woke her for.