The Sunspire ground blizzard

tiny reply, muse died unexpectedly

Only hours from this little encounter of a snow-day would the fée realize again that there was little breath to be found, here; hinds had somewhat settled, scrabbling at the frost beneath a tail that feathered furiously, now, at the prospect of aid coming along the way. The shoveling at the line of her shoulder, again again again; could not dare to hope that it might be someone familiar. Freedom was eventually found, however;
and it was with a rocking-backness of  “O!”  that Andraste gobbled up the airs and looked upon a face that was most certainly not familiar — who would nonetheless recieved a half-dumb smile of frozen, shorn lips slurring  “S-ssuilánte,” from a starlit she-wolf who blinked bleary the snows from dark lashes.