"Mom, I'm cold," Fig complained as the pair stepped onto the shore of Tinuvel. Even the warming breath of early spring could not ease the chill that rolled across the northern most island. Desert-born, Fig was not made for this. Her coat was thin, spots and speckled inked like map points across her sides. The shades of umber and brown that made up Salem lived on her skin. Úna was the opposite. Though Salem had stolen away her winter coat, her skin did not tremble beneath the frosted air of her home. She was nearly entirely made of shadows, save for the barest hint of white, a dagger in her neck and the socks that wound up her lower legs. Wordlessly Úna turned to Fig, pride and love blossoming in her chest as she looked at her daughter.

"You'll meet Bluebird soon," Úna said finally, though she intended to introduce Fig to her immediate family first. Fig grunted, she had no interest in tiny little birds. It was far more interesting to chase the hawks and predator birds of the Hills when they foolishly landed on the ground. It was also just as fun to yell at them when they roosted in the bare branched trees.

"What is this stuff?" Another complaint. Fig recoiled, taking several steps back as her hoof touched snow for the first time. "It's snow, you'll...get used to it." Úna assured her daughter, though she wasn't so sure she would. After another few minutes of reassurance Fig finally followed after her dam, lifting her legs and taking long steps to avoid the snow as much as possible. And into the heart of the Bay they headed.