The Whispering Winds of the Frozen Reaches

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time Blakely awoke, the soft hum of the evening wind brushing gently against her face. She blinked, disoriented for a moment, before remembering the peaceful picnic they had spent under the trees. The light evening air smelled of freshly turned earth and wildflowers, and for a moment, Blakely allowed herself to stay where she was—nestled against Matcha, her ever-dedicated panda summon, as the day faded into night.

Nearby, Maven and Iris were still deep in conversation. Maven's six tails flicked lazily as she spoke, her voice light and playful, while Iris listened with that calm, focused expression she always had. The remnants of their picnic lay scattered across the blanket, half-eaten sandwiches and fruit long forgotten as the sky darkened.

"You awake, sleepyhead?" Maven's voice cut through the stillness as she noticed Blakely stirring.