Though is wasn’t easy to tell, given the fact that Tinuvel’s winter was plunged in endless night accompanied by snow so thick, nothing could be seen but blinding light, Mariael assumed it must be late in the evening. She had wandered toward the mouth of the largest of a few connected caverns where the Bay herd could take their reprieve form the sharp, whistling icy winds outside. The hot water springs lay just outside the caverns at varying levels among the rock, and some of the mineral-rich water with its funny taste and increased temperature even trickled within the cavern, making it a comfortingly warm place to be.
Mariael had moved away from her sister, who she often tucked in beside when she was lingering with the herd and not surveying the nearby terrain, and stood quiet, alone, watching the blur of grey-white before her. The winds were sending the falling snow twisting and turning in a wretched flurry. Thick and unforgiving. Anyone who wasn’t seeking shelter, be it by cavern or within the forest, was good as dead when the wind finally ceased.
Dead.
Mariael breathed through the sudden, sharp pain which lurched in her chest and tightened her throat. Her ears flicked back and her blue eyes became dark, troubled. It had been a night just like this one, almost two years ago. Around this same time in the year, too. Would the agony of the loss ever lessen? Would there ever be a time during wretched blizzards in the midst of the winter where she wouldn’t look out into the blinding white and hope, for just a second, to see a pale, gold-flecked figure returning to her?
Again that same, sudden pain assaulted her heart and this time it was strong enough to make her gasp.
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