You have never even seen the Umbra, and you're not even sure this is the spirit world itself or just some kind of pocket realm where Beaver dwells. You look for the flies that covered the horse and rider, sniff the ice for the scent of rancid or sweet-smelling meat. Nothing. This place, at least, seems untouched by the Bane's rancid presence. But what does that mean?
You lean over the ice, then realize that you've leaned your head into the water. The ice. No, the…You pull back. Silver-white ripples echo across the surface of the river. Ripples in the ice, as it flows like water. You try again, pushing your head through the surface. There is no sensation of cold, or of breaking ice. The way is open, and you prepare to step through.
As the wind howls and the wall between the worlds starts to come down, Black Tarn appears as an occulting of the frozen stars. She drifts toward you, half wolf and half woman, eyes like galaxies, her clawed hand reaching for you. But you can see her inner struggle, and as the barriers fade and she floats within reach, her expression grows vague again in a way you recognize…then hard and cruel.
"Stupid cub," she says, her voice wild and mad. "Let it end here! No more ambitious little pups! No more footprints in the snow! Leave us alone!"
And she brings her fist down on the wall from the other side. It shatters and collapses, blasting you with ice and grit.
When you can see again, the river-ice is cracked and frozen, and the way is shut.
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