Blackfeather Woods In a forest of lies and shadows

The cold was returning, and that she liked. Sure, the cold killed plants and animals, but she was born in it. Molded by it. She could survive another winter.

Like the others around her, Potema prepared for snow and cold and more storms. She did not hunt, but gathered what herbs remained after the flood for their stores. The young teen dried them in the sun throughout the day to preserve them, returning to the sunny spot as the ball of light fell beneath the mountains to cover the land in darkness and cold.

She gathered the herbs to her, wrapping their crispy leaves in softer moss to preserve them, her mediocre task paused by the sound of another behind her. The girl dropped the leaf and turned, her good eye locating the black wolf. While her greeting was formal, Potema's was less than cordial, annoyed by the interruption. "Sure. Name's Potema." What do you want? I'm in the middle of something."