The wastelands were calling Aketch back but she was ignoring the call of the sweet cracked clay ground and the promise of a good baked meal for her favorite sort of mortals. Nothing was quite as peaceful as watching a vulture pick at the dead in the baking sun.

Most would disagree with Aketch but that was okay with her. They were allowed to be wrong after all.

Now the goddess found her self in a thick over grown tree covered area. It was strange because Aketch could swear she smelt the sent of salt close by as well as if the ocean was near by as well. Right now she was dealing with the dense brush and foliage that a humid demi jungle had to offer. Not fun when you had wings and they scrapped up against so many different things.

The smell of mortals was also dense in this area but the goddess hadn't put together that it might be because she had entered a prides territory. To be honest, Aketch wasn't always so great about understanding mortals and their need for prides. Then again, she was a being who had no need to have the protection of shelter among other things.

None of that mattered right now though as Aketch was presently struggling her way through the brush. Ugh. The wastelands were soooo much nicer.