[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Quadling Country]
"Seriously, why don't we just fly there?"
The complaint came from Puck for what felt like the tenth time in the past hour. She floated a short distance behind Grimm, arms folded tightly across her chest, drifting forward in uneven little bursts that betrayed her irritation. A few steady paces behind them, the Cowardly Lion padded along in silence, his large frame moving carefully over the rocky ground.
Night still clung to the land, though not so thickly that it blinded them. The terrain had changed gradually as they moved south. Grass had given way to stone. The earth beneath their feet was no longer soft but jagged and dry, a strange brown that almost seemed red under the moonlight. Low hills of rock rose on either side of a wide valley, broken by shallow canyons and weathered formations. The path they followed was hardly a road—just a faded trail cutting southward through the stone.
