Moonstone Quarry The world that hardens as the harsher winter holds

Aneira walked beside him, her steps quiet against the stone. The chill in the air no longer bit as sharply; perhaps it was the warmth in his voice, or the way he spoke of someone long gone, that dulled the wind's edge. Her ear twitched at the mention of his wife; subtle, but not without notice. A silence followed, not uncomfortable, but pensive, as if she weighed whether the question was hers to ask.
Then, softly, „You speak of her in past tense,” her gaze lingered on the path ahead, but her tone had shifted; less guarded, touched by something unspoken. 
„Was she… like you?” she asked, a note of genuine interest threading the words, „Strong, still, beneath the weight, enduring.” The frostmaiden didn’t press further. If he chose to answer, he would. But in her voice, there was no demand; only quiet respect, and the trace of something gentler than before.