the wicked witch of winter.
alesya was not sure how she got here, or which way she came from anymore. she was hungry and frail, and that is all she knew. she smells of seasalt and pinesap. a swath of ice and snow split the coastline, and for a moment she almost felt at home.
her roving had landed her here, where the scent of others was strong. strangers. foreign to her. solovey was isolated, and bartering had never been her strongsuit; she knew not what to do with herself.
boldly, she alerts them of her presence in a whistling call.

she is not alone for long. she is approached by a chestnut figure; hearty, strong, much larger than she; she would almost consider him handsome. alesya pauses, one foot dangling in the air in front of her as her gaze travels the length of his body curiously.
moontide, she echoes. my name is alesya. she moves catlike, slinking a few steps closer. you have food?

friendly enough, cordial enough; but alesya did not mirror his smile. was he offering? if so, she was not one to deny.
i join moontide, i stay for vinter. or longer. her own brows lift. you give food, i help your people. da? fair trade.
or at least she thought so.

her skills. alesya's lips curl knowingly; the topaz eyes shimmer. ze spirits choose me. i talk to birds, animals. many zinks to learn from them.
i help people. i guide. i heal, and now she felt it was her turn to ask questions. moontide need people like me?

and just like that, alesya became one with the wolves of moontide. she was shocked at how simple it was.
rodyn gives her names, titles; people she will likely come to know, their future children. what interests her in this moment is the prospect of bison meat. she trails alongside him in silence, though her eyes indicate that she listens with the way that they glow.
a late wife. samani, her name was; her bones are one with the sand. alesya softens. i make offering, not quite a question, not quite a statement; there is wonder in her gaze. i give vhat she need in next life. vhat vas she like?

she sound like nice voman.
the wind, the warmth, the sea; alesya began to think now of what objects would be best suited to a woman such as she. she notices acutely the way rodyn shifts, melts at the thought of her. it made her own throat tighten.
i give her zinks she like. maybe pelt from otter. feazer from bird, the girl's eyes began to narrow quizzically. vhat did you do togezer?