Winter's Touch

[Sjira]

(Posted: Wed Nov 16, 2011 10:54 pm)

Winter was called "turaplae", the Dying Season, among the Llothgarians.

In many ways, it put things to sleep. In many others, it killed them entirely.

For s'jira, it was something to look forward to in only one way that a heart longed for and could think of for that time of year: snow.

After speaking briefly with the dock master, she had headed to the marketplace.

She could remember very, very clearly the first week that she was within RhyDin and how things were so strange. The language of some as much as the appearance of others. The death of her Master was still freshly with her then and his grave had been visited often. But it had been Winter and it was snowing. And from a time of death came that beautiful snow from nature that seemed to make anything lovely, pure and new.

As s'jira hurried for the market, to buy a few things needed, she felt the bite of the cold even through the large, old cloak of Panther's that she still kept and still wore when the weather was as it was that day and night.

There were things to buy and then a warm fire at the inn to see self to. It was as much a part of her way in Winter as it was for the sun to warm the grass and earth in the Summer. With a smile on her face, small as it was, she hummed and headed into the area that was known to be the markets.