Neverwinter Forest and — it was winter

it seems the world sees fit to throw countless hindrances at the child, and despite, she grows. she grows and grows, in that boundless way children her age do, as if racing time itself. reed knows words know, most of 'em, and while she had been such a loudmouthed baby, she's settling into a quieter version of herself, one that watches with sharp eyes. one that will learn to wheedle and beguile and bicker with the best of them. 

she is sharp enough to understand that whatever situation has been inherited, it is unfair to her. maybe all children are given unfair hands, but she is beginning to suspect hers has been especially cruel. for one, she is not, as she had assumed she would be, royalty of any kind. what's up with that, world? the father figure - the witch doctor - has vanished from her life, and though she will forget him by the time she is fully grown, right now the disappearance rankles her. he was interesting. he made funny noises with his mouth that she enjoyed imitating. (she will dream of shadowy, sneaky figures and their baubles for the rest of her life, though she won't be able to explain why).

it isn't all bad, though. mama can do no wrong as far as she is concerned, even though she made reed cross the bad wet stuff. there is, at least, a lot of company in the form of her brother who she mostly ignores, and all of her various older siblings, who she is still forming opinions on. they seem fine, except when mama decides to pay attention to them instead of her. like right now? hello. with an exaggerated tiny huff the child sticks herself to mama's legs, pleased as always the way the still downy-soft fur on her back neatly blends with the fur on her mother's ankles. she fixes eirlys with the snootiest look she can manage, little nose tipped up and eyes squinty, and says, "is cold." because even if she's fine right now, it is cold, and it is important that they all know and respect her opinion. this is the way reed's world must be.