mall-caps;font-variantmall-caps;letter-spacing:4px;">THE SPARK OF DAWN

Leaving Salsola had become increasingly more difficult as time went by, leaving the fire-eyed witchdoctor wary as her feet carried her past the thistle edge of the Thistle King's domain. Since leaving Anathema, she had done little in the way of searching for others outside of her family. There was no need. She had everyone she could have possibly needed within the realm of Salsola, after all. So it was not the desire to meet others that drove her from the territory that day — it was the desire for knowledge. Her satchel hung carefully across her chest, holding the old glass jars she'd managed to scavenge from the world, each with its own treasure of plant life within it. Herbal medicines were becoming a fast interest to the Crone, and that day it was thistle that brought her away from her home — so many of her activities were done in secret, after all.

Hours had taken her to the edge of the mountain range toward the north and she followed it without words. Momotztli looked favorably upon the mountains, she believed, for it was they who received his gaze each morning. She followed the line of the rocks, thoughts twisting around how to handle the thistles without finding herself deceased. In Barbados, she had learned something of the plants which enabled a freer lifestyle, one without undesired repercussions, but the woman who had taught her had faded into faint memory. The memory was necessary for her life to continue as she wished it to.