she keeps her Moet et Chandon, in her pretty cabinet

It was hazardous to walk this very earth. More than once, the ground had tried to give way beneath her legs.

For someone who had dug herself out of the very earth not too long ago, Lucretia felt fine. Her throat hurt, perhaps, but there was nothing disfiguring the area. She had checked, there was no scar to stand out in the face of her impressive ruff. She was angry, very much so, but Lucretia had always been at least a little angry. How so depended on the time of the day and how many people had tested her patience. There was none today, but she wasn’t discounting the idea. Not until those rats decided to show their faces again and tell her what, exactly, their thought process was in putting teeth to her throat and treating her like a chew toy. The blue coated woman gave a sharp click of displeasure as the ground under her feet tried once again to give. That would not be happening today, not to her.

Finally, she ascended above the ridge line and onto the flat mesa, wind whipping through her coat, eyes focused on the area she had found herself in for the night. Astounding, most would have their mouths open in awe. Lucretia? Well, she wasn’t exactly looking at the scenery for beauty. Practicality was first on her mind, and in the face of having to sleep atop the rise, she looked to the nearby trees, and started at the root of an impressive pine. She scraped at the dirt, sniffing when it wasn’t to her standards, and scrapped her initial idea in favor of carving out a pit to at least hide from the wind in.
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Uriel wasn't.. A fan, of going further into the south. She held burning memories of the pheonix attacking her so, and though she may have escaped without injuries — that did not delude the fear that he was still around, and roaming for a thirst of blood. She was no liar, but at the time she perhaps wished she was, for if the golden wolf had lied that she was a Goddess, then maybe this fear wouldn't take hold. She shook her head, and ventured downwards, but avoided the place of her nightmares.

She couldn't avoid it forever, Uriel thought. To face her fears and to see if he was gone at the very least — and she could run. Not a fighter but legs that could dash, she could find solace in the North if all else ; but the woman was reluctant to leave the plains, feeling a new kindle to it's openness. Once anxious by how open and viewable she was, she then started to grow a bit homely to it, finding it.. Rightfully her own, as sometimes Uriel could blend into the grass — but at the time, snow was continually falling down, and she, with golden fur, had more trouble hiding.

Then she came across the mesa once more ; a fearful place. The lands seemed to dip into crevasses, large and wide where a single wrong step would mean anyone's doom. She had to squint, to even see if anyone, or anything was below to the lands that sprouted into forests — and ontop, was even larger. The cliffs were fearful, and she was cautious with each step to make sure it wasn't her downfall into it's pit. It brought a great curiosity however, how the land was formed itself.. It was like a large lake and river once was around, and yet dried up to what it was today.

Uriel knew of ancients, and the way the world changes over time.. It was a shame though, not many could live enough to share those tales, and most, if not all, were just words passed down to their ancestors.

Across the way through the yawning trees, did Uriel spot a wolf, who was looking at roots. A wind rustled through, pushing her a bit forward.

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