Into this world we’re thrown

The night was dark and moonless, and it usually suited her down to her bones. The wind whipped through the trees with a echoing WooOooOooo, like some mournful canine begging for companionship, Yeth hound... she thought to herself momentarily, then buried the childhood tale down, deep down.

Just in case, she ignored the calls and continued to stride forth, no real destination in mind, but a restlessness that could not be quelled by movement alone. It was nights like this that made her remember. Remember the pain, and the blood, and the pitiful cries of children long since given over to another. It had been a night like this... almost a year ago now. She hadn’t even waited for them to open their eyes.

Curse her sister for even bringing it up. The Archer couldn’t even bring herself to ask what they had been named in the end.

A break in the trees, providing the slightest illumination from the stars above, fell on a snowshoe hare, mid-moult. She could have screamed for the timing of it, but only managed a bitter chuckle instead. Matilda Archer knew what she was looking at, and she was far too smart to risk causing offence. "Hail, Spirit." She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone, wondering if the oft-silent puca would deign her with words on this occasion, or vanish into the night once more, after doing just enough to land her in the shit.

"speech".