Permafrost Hollows my fathers blade

aw! just right outside the borders of Darukaal

A storm wages war inside the wildling woman, violent and contemptuous. Stemmed from the threat of war and now the news of the man she'd yearned for having staked his claim on another woman. Frivolous, as she had no claim over the baskaan. Perhaps once, when they were children...

But those times are gone, and she is grown. A woman who must not allow herself to be swallowed whole by emotions she hardly knows how to handle. To hunt and to fight is what she knows best; it is a default she could always depend on. 

And so the white sparrow blazes past the borders of the glacier and into the wilds of the north. Stalking through snowdrifts and dead brush, simmering with anger that she must unleash in either a spar or a hunt. She moves with precision and with purpose, driven by the itch to sink her sword into something that would beg for mercy she would not give.