Winter is coming

A different girl than the one that had turned up in the Armada many months ago. She was capable now, competent, and could hold her own. Still scrawny in comparison to many of the other pups (especially her best friend, who seemed to be too big for his own good damnit), but strong too. Not sickly. Not starving. There was care and attention that had been put into the red and pale girl, and it was... enough. It was more than enough. Though there would always be a certain, strange kind of damage beneath the surface (Hazel's separation anxiety would only become clear in time), there were just as many good things. Above all, Hazel clings to Sirius.

The shoreline, the Plain, it was all so familiar to her now. This was her home. She could race up and down this beach, high tide or low, with her eyes closed and probably have only a 40% chance of going ass over teakettle. The Armada is familiar, is safe, is all the things that Hazel can hold dear. Not only is it her present, but it's her future too-- she's sure of it. Ambition can be both innocent and fierce, and every day she manages to embody that. Every day she's trying, trying her absolute best. Marshal puts on a display when Sirius speaks, breaking the companionable silence between them. Her first birthday, right, it would be soon. "We were born during the first and worst snowstorm of last year, a real bad blizzard." Her words were soft, and it's rare that Hazel speaks of her blood. Green eyes remain on Marshal, trying to prevent herself from going too far away.

"'Lis too, right? Er, in the winter, I mean." The thought had picked up somewhere in the middle, making the connection that he was probably winterborn as well. It's a strange sameness that strings together those born into the harshest season, though they may not always know it. The red string of fate has them all tied together, even if the ways don't always make sense right away.

"Speech"