No Poetry but the Stars

One of the benefits of being removed from Lirim's omega rank was the ability to travel. She had hardly had any time to explore Boreas in its more hospitable seasons before being conscripted into Lirim for ignoring their borders. Ah well. It was autumn, but still bitterly cold in the north. Her nerve damage that typically modified her gait left her limping awkwardly through the snow. What was typically an awkward shuffle now looked downright painful, even if she didn't feel a thing.

Every exhale brought forth a fairy-tale cloud of white breath. If nothing else, the north was blessedly quiet in a way that the forest was not. There were no sounds of small animals, no creatures scuttling about. Just soft snow. In the distance, through the soft flurries created by the wind, she spotted a figure cut out against the night sky. With the vast, empty expanse of snow, her voice carried easily along the night air: "Hello!