She has decided it is best to hibernate the summer away till the creeping cool nights start to swallow up the daylight like little greedy goblins. The frost that covers her body, the chilly plume of breath that forms just beyond the length of her nose, is what she is.
(ice queen)
The warmth of winter sun was enough to fulfill the edgiest chill in her spine. But why fight who you are? Why deny yourself? The spotted woman moved amongst the frozen grass shards, the crunch of early frost appeasing her sensitive hearing and spreading a small smile across her lips. It reminded her of the Tundra from her childhood.
Neva wonders of her family. Where had they ended up? Did they miss her like she misses them? A soft sigh expels, floats, and disappears before her. She gives her spotted skin a good toss as the frost flurries from her rump in a dash of white before slowly crusting over one again. Perhaps if she remained in the meadow for a bit longer, well it could perhaps bring another her way? A face in which to equate with a name? Maybe a voice that could help her find her family.
swayed by cold rejections