Moonspear we just sell different parts of ourselves

the exclamation startles the tundrian, who turns to face the owner of the voice with a quick whip of his head and half twist of his body. it was a fellow moonspearian, of course, and this settles the bristle of his hackles quick enough. but it is the familiarity of her face, of the mottled rabbit skin she has draped over her shoulders, of her unusual way of speaking that morphs wintersbane's face into a rapid progression of surprise, to shock, to surprise and then, finally, to acknowledgement.

kukutux?

her name feels like a memoir upon his lips; as he tries ( and simultaneously tries not to for the memoirs are painful to recall ) recall when last they spoke. shortly before andraste married her off to this place; a year or so ago now. it was a different lifetime, when he went by the name his feywife called him, when life had seemed to be looking up.

an ache resounds in his chest but he ignores it; as he always does.