A Leaf on the Twenty-Three Winds

Antora had never liked the jungles of Naya, at least compared to her adoptive home of Muraganda. The air was somehow cloudy yet not humid, the trees gigantic yet not grand. Muraganda may have been a dangerous place for an elf, but even the insatiable hunger of the wildlife there was preferable to the stoic indifference of the Nayan behemoths. Antora was especially uncomfortable near the newly-shared border with Bant, where the locals were constantly struggling to either defeat or absorb their neighbors. She had never personally been to this part of Alara before, but she had heard enough to know that sigiled leonin and aven godtrackers defied the norm. All she wanted was the comfort of a permanent home, something that had been eluding her ever since the multiverse-wide cataclysm. Muraganda, Kouria, and Shandalar had all proven to be unsuitable, and she had even pondered returning home. Right now, though, Alara was her best option.