Moonstone Quarry Like blood upon the snow

Anoana had always been a calm and quiet woman. Her voice like a whisper on the wind. Her spirit strong and silent like the first stirring of a long winter to come. She could be as beautiful and appealing as a new snow but as harsh and unrelenting as the towering ice mountains of home. 

Here, she was just the same. Outside, at least. Within, her heart ached and her spirit burned with the fires that had stolen her home. Outside, she was polite and humble and she had taken herself to keep herself busy in her work. A new home needed much tending. Visitor dens to be dug, healing quarters to be prepared, herbs to be collected, a garden to cultivate, borders to lay thick with their new claim, caches to be filled... 

Rest no longer came easier for her. Shut eyes made her relive a past she did not think to ever the pleasure to forget. 

She would wake screaming. 

It was another day Anoana went out to collect. Her storage was already beginning to swell though she had yet to pick out an area for her healing quarters and garden. The smell of the hyacinth and the Hárkonungr drew her near. 

Góður vinnudagur, Hárkonungr? She says with a smooth smile as she stops to watch the great red man work the old hide.