Stone was the best surface for running on, and that was a fact. The impact of the hard, rough surface on the sole of her foot as step after sure, sharp step cracks against it. The way it doesn't yield under her weight the way so many other things do while walking. No spring or squish here, just pure hard push and a fight to see which of them could take more pain in the end. 

And of course there was the sound. The snap! The crunch! The clattering of small pebbles on the larger stone as she passed by! This was music that the earth played for her, and no less special than the gift of the Lyri. At every step the mountain fought her, and that made it the most exciting place in all of Bitemark (which was saying something, if you knew where to look). 

Mosaic is still but for the unsteady rising of her chest as she pants with a runner's exhilaration. The breeze plays with her hair, but only she can move the rest of her. She does not turn her head to acknowledge the people struggling their way up the path after her; her gift to them was slowing down enough in the first place that they could keep up at all. The air is full of the smells of a dozen different rock types, each with their own specific mineral aromatics that make this just the same as visiting a garden, after all. 

This is not a moment that would be improved by Projection Mining. But then, maybe the happiness of a planet was worth more than the feeling of conquest by hand, the sweat beading on her iron muscles and the heat of her body standing against the coolness of the mountain breeze, the view that overlooked at least seven villages at once, and the adrenal jolt of knowing that very soon her life would be coming to a fight. Maybe all of these things were less valuable than the convenience of an instant pile of raw materials and impossible plenty. 

Her lip curls. The thought dies with her smirk. Her foot crashes on the stone in front of her, and Mosaic leaps high enough to clear Dolemon twice over to land with an almost dainty grace on the first massive stone block she has marked as her first prey. 

"I HAVE COME!" she bellows with a voice made out of thunder, "I AM HERE!"

Mosaic spreads her arms wide to either side of her as she steps closer and closer to the edge of the stone cube she's perched on, walking calmly toward a steep drop and certain peril. She spits, and clears her throat. 

"I have need of works, Stone Tribe. And before the night has taken us, I promise I will have stolen this mountain right out from under your feet. If you're going to send a champion, better send six! Minimum! I don't want any complaints later that the costs don't measure up to the ritual!"

And she laughs, in that careless way that has defined her for as long as she's been alive. The mirth of the invincible. The delight of a challenge. A joviality that bends its way to equaling respect. 

She falls, and the air whistles through her ears as she hurtles toward the ground. Her legs strike with the fury of a Solid Projectile barrage. The sudden crater is more than enough of a handhold to lift the entire block above her head: the heist is underway. 

She'll need to do more than this. There's a host of challenges to overcome if she's going to make good on her promise, but those are lost in the thrill of holding a shard of a mountain heavy enough to bury a village with, instead of building one. Right now she is a thief, but she will at least be a bold one.