Their tides had yet to be turned: neither spurned nor entranced into considerable folly or gain, the two continued clambering on amongst the mountainside, goat and fox measuring and biding the hands of fate. As Lena dug into the earth, roamed across vast pits and crevasses, Imogen acted as her eyes to the vulnerable hind, continuing to sit across her bouncing haunches, watching as others advanced or fell back (paying close attention to a particular gilded caprine who could have easily been Roland – she made sure not to mention it to her bonded, lest she wish to turn completely around and go hoist him across the finish line with no thought to her own position in the competition. In another time or place, the little creature would have immediately set Lena’s selfless considerations towards their Thief, but now was not the time and she figured he was fine). But the nymph, now a little less elegant and a lot more rugged, bleated some energetic symphony, extending her gaze towards the horizon, causing the kitsune’s attention to become riveted towards the same skyline as the duo blazed along to the next set of rings – something white, crystal-like, fell, like snow along the Basin’s peaks, enriched with chilling contortions. But this wasn’t christened with the rampant, clenching cold, and instead, as the vixen stuck her tongue out to catch one cascading drop, it claimed her mouth in sweet, delicious fervor. What on earth?

Perhaps it was meant to be a distraction by the odd turtle; the wily beast couldn’t be sure. She urged the sylph to proceed in their silent bond (It tastes lovely – but don’t worry about that now!), and decided her own meddling affairs were necessary to get anywhere in this game. With a caustic, Cheshire, bestial smirk, the pale fox brewed zealous, frenetic incantations, drew barbaric breaths, and chased calamity through the lithe proportions of her tiny form. Donning her true, audacious colors, swiftly, quickly, deftly, the embers within her soul burned through the air, cast in various directions, streamlined and embraced by the duplicitous tails and corrupt mouth of her calculating oaths and monstrous whims, pursuing after those behind them, beside them, and in front of them. With any luck, Imogen’s makeshift, infernal snare would trap and maim opponents, allowing Lena to acquire and obtain a grander position.

[Imogen sends fire to those behind, in front, and beside Lena.]