Winter had become a very interesting season for the snow white, grease streaked, little girl. Even now, safely home and with her family, she recalled the lonely nights in a cave by the riverside. Usually friendly and romping with her family, helping Sif to hone her fighting skills, in the winter there were times she slipped away to a secret den she had created for herself. Once upon a time, she had a stash of herbs and treasures buried deep in the territory of Glorall. Through the seasons she had painstakingly moved all of her possessions and object of power to the shores of the sea. Surf and storm had ebbed and flowed through the mouth of a den that was protected by reeds. Throughout the fall and winter she had come to this sanctuary to watch the weather from its safety and feel the comfort of the power, just as she had laid in the paws of the storm loving Zeus, who had saved her.

Her father’s call sounded through the air, mixing with the soft surf against the sand. Two toned eyes looked in the direction he came from and her tail wagged happily. Solitude was necessary, but nothing made her heart beat stronger than the love for her family. Grinning to herself, she came up with a random idea. She had not seen her father in a while and wanted to honor him. Inanna carefully selected a shell she had found on the beach, a twisting spiral protected by sharp spikes around the outside. When looking at it she saw that everyone was circular, coming to combine into one, and with that it reached out in attack or defence, power none the less. Much like her father, and their family, twined together in the world.

Skill that was coming from her year of life, and from many many cuts as a younger pup, she picked up the shell and set off to see her family. As soon as she approached she hesitated. A strange woman was standing beside her father. For a second a flashback to seasons past, a wolf chasing her with threats of being eaten. Closing her two toned eyes she shook away the memory and jumped forward to continue her greeting. Setting the shell down, she rubbed happily against her father, licking his chin, eyeing the other female suspiciously. She wiped the look from her face and tackled her sister, bumping into her with a wildly wagging tail, yipping her greeting, ignoring the silence that would inevitably follow.

Sarabi’s words made Inanna hesitate. Again her eyes narrowed and a soft growl came from the girl. “Do you not have eyes?” Her voice was a cold growl. Growing up with her mute sister she understood how Sif spoke and communicated. Every action and movement was a paragraph of a story. “She told you everything. Sif is a warrior. A pup from another pack had come into Glorall. She found him and taught him a lesson. Two toned eyes narrowed further. “Sif is vicious to those who deserve it.” And those who didn’t, but Inanna was going to leave that detail out. So used to being the warrior’s voice, the young herbalist completely forgot that she had her own voice and identity. Sitting beside her sister, she remained nameless to the stranger until either of her parents decided to be enlightening.