Sleepy Fox Hollow But you're perfect being yourself

The storm had passed and Ciri was once more on the move. It had blanketed the Sunspire range with a fresh sheet of snow that glistened in the midday Wintertime sun, a stark difference to the day prior when the grey-white blizzard forced her to seek shelter on the mountainside.

Her stride was careful, naturally, for Ciri had been born and reared on rugged terrain. She'd been young when her family relocated from Sawtooth but she knew she was close; she recalled how happy she'd been there in her early youth. Her memories there were good, and there was no bristling of her to be near her family's previous claim.

The swallow flared her nostrils at the distinct aroma of fox as she trailed her way through the hollow, though it was movement in the snow that caught her attention. With her pride still wounded following her confession to Chakliux and their inability to find a common ground, Ciri didn't feel much like making small-talk with a stranger. She moved to pass him by, sure to offer a thin smile on acknowledgement in passing should he glance her way, though had no desire to stop.