The foothills 

The cobbled northern path leading out of the village ascended with a gentle slope, turning from ashen gray to sable green. Tall grasses and clumps of young buttercups welcomed the travelers as their stallions clopped up the mud-washed terrain.

Lying at a height of one hundred and fifty meters above sea level, the foothills of Mount Orion were the perfect place to spend lazy wintry mornings. Lake Nimichia was just a mile's trek from there and offered a great fishing spot for both amateurs and seasoned veterans.

Xander could see cozy cottages in the distance and tall chestnut trees marked with white tags. They had evidently been left behind by the climbing parties who had come during the autumn months.

Mule Deer and Gray-Tailed Rabbits pranced away at the sight of the approaching horses, but a few brave Elks watched on from the distance as they continued grazing on the dew-drenched grass.