Nimbus Summit I wish that I could just be brave.

The woman was interested in their history, which was a topic Zephrine only knew in bits and pieces. She was too young to have any real knowledge of Old Kingslend; the fire, however, was a sore spot she wished she hadn't blabbed about. It hurt to look back on those memories. Her face darkened a little when Niamh asked after details, sort-of stagnating in that expression while Zephrine became distracted.

"The fire took everything from us. We fled in different directions. Its... Its a miracle, really, that we've reunited since then." Following the herds had always been something of a comfort to Zephrine. Following them all the way here to a realm where the High Elk lived and breathed, piecing together the Deorwine after they'd been scattered, that was something else.

She heard the query about their faith, flicking an ear.

"Our hallowed lord, the High Elk, may bless or curse those as He deems fit." Zephrine explained. It sounded more like recitation than belief, the cadence giving the air of something practiced. "He blesses us with his color and complexion, and those that have lost favor are known for their absence of such... While black and grey, stay away."

Zephrine steadies herself with the rhyme, comforted by it. She thinks of other things that had been taught to her, shared with her - and adds after a pause: "You're golden, which is a good sign. The most beloved by the High Elk are blessed with earthy tones; browns, like Himself. I... I'm considered ugly, for instance." It was odd to state this to a stranger but it was a fact she had accepted long ago about herself. To emphasize her point, she did a small pirouette to show off the transitions in her coat, then settled, and bashfully looked around, feeling stupid immediately. "My legs are too bright, see? And the greys, they're a sign from Him that my parents... They did something wrong, to displease him, before I was born. But I can make up for it with hard work, too."

Hard, thankless, often undermined work.