Whitebark Stream put your ring back on honey-tits, you haven't had enough porridge this morning (mtr.)

@Wintersbane
a.k.a babyg mode activated ft. reunion
Setting Morning, during return journey.
Time Sometime during 1.23-1.27.

The serenity that comes with seclusion is one of the many reasons why Aure appreciates solitary travel. Another reason is that there were no companions to see how frequently she made an utter fool of herself; first with that stubborn maple's-syrup, and now... this. This was her, shivering on the riverside crags, still drowned cold from her tousle with this bedeviled stream, and... nothing but nothing to show for it. (Twigs don't count.)

Sniffling through a pink, soot-smudged nose and blinking hard through runny eyes, she made to hobble down from her snow-dusted perch. But-- her coltish legs had never been more colt-wobbly, and frost pricked at her dazed eyes, . A snowshoe paw held itself in the winter air for a moment, before she promptly floundered, pitched, and Frenched the snow scars-first with a strangled yip.

Any and all fishers who were able to preform within their element had the pathetic skayona's utter and unending admiration.

Otherwise, as said before: Aure couldn't be more appreciative of traveling alone, because nobody would see her persistent lack of decorum. Nobody from Drageda would see this. She would rather drown herself in the creek if anybody saw this: a scrawny, winter rabbit of a female with her face down, bum-up, buried to the shoulders, and hindlegs childishly stomping in vain. She would rather choke on a fishbone-wishbone than know someone heard her muffled, tearful procession of injuraturi and rugăciuni finale.

She wouldn't be remembered as the skayona-of-the-sea. She would never find her brother, or see her Drakru or dragă again. No. She would be remembered by the fish that slapped her so badly it still stung; she would freeze to death of cold and starvation, and become known by cruel fauna alike as Aure, She Who Died with Her Ass in the Air.