Stone Circle silverweave

Call them. She didn't want to! A necessary evil, she knew, but couldn't it wait just a little longer? Reverie grasped for something else, anything else, and found it quickly. Okay, but - first, what is that? Her eyes went past him then, to what he'd left in the snow. She swept past him to pick it up before he could remind her to call for Bjarna and Gunnar.
The delicate make of it seemed to hold together quite precariously as she carefully lifted it from the snow. A frosted vine, golden leaves, little droplets of ice; some of them fell, but she hardly noticed because she was so charmed by the deer hoof. You made this? It's beautiful. He had to have made it, she thought, and was enchanted by the thought. Visual art had always felt like a realm reserved for nature and its wild whims. But Lestan had captured the heart of the frozen wilds in his delicate creation. She was, in a word, impressed.