Quiet on the Northern front

Withdrawal season. Winter. Hazel's shoulders ached with it, along with her head. It's too loud in here, too heavy. Wrapping herself in the noise, letting it take over... bad habits. All of them bad habits, and all of them taking hold. The drinking, the isolation, the dwelling. She hasn't been sleeping well, taking to wandering instead. Though trouble hadn't yet found her in those wanderings, there's nothing to say it won't. The winter woods are dark, full of terrors. Hazel knows them better than most, even if she's that terror herself, sometimes.

Her gaze far away, resting on the horizon line. Like if she stares hard enough, maybe she'll be able to make out the little white wolf that had taken a piece of her upon going away. Halo's departure had been harder on Hazel than she'd like to admit. She's an adult. She's an adult. The heartbreak of losing both parents all over again has taken a far deeper toll than she'd admit, leaving her emotional and raw and reclusive. Putting herself away so she doesn't hurt the ones she loves who remain.

Taking a long sip from the warm drink, allowing it to melt some of chill in her stomach. It's a long time before Hazel speaks, and when she does, the words are quiet. Voice smaller, shakier than what's typical of the general. "Do you think Halo is okay?" One of the things that's been heavy on her mind, maybe the easiest to give voice to. Hazel feels an awful lot like she's been orphaned all over again.

Hazel, The General