Cirice looked so earnest and excited to have a little bit of money that Cyran couldn’t help but smile encouragingly at her while she jingled it in the air, coins clinking slightly before she put it in her pocket and returned to lecturing the merchants about empathy and… seemingly casting another spell, though he couldn’t tell what. She left them with promises that they would depart in the morning for the missing goods, which was just fine with Cyran. It had been a long day of travel and work, and some sleep would be much appreciated before launching himself into another adventure.

Cirice bid them both goodnight, both men looking like they were still dopey, simply content to sit at the table for a moment longer. Confusion still lingering, Cyran stood and followed after Cirice, who was already taking charge and purchasing a room with their newly-acquired money. She skipped happily back to the stairs, through the tavern, where the two men were blinking rapidly, staring around their surroundings in bewilderment, like they were just coming back into their senses.

Cyran observed them for a moment more before following up the stairs after Cirice.

The young lady had already selected one of the beds, making herself at home as Cyran closed the door behind him. One could never be too careful, so he started inspecting every nook and cranny for anything dangerous, or any enemies that might be hiding. Perhaps it was overcautious, but he did not get this far without being careful, and he had a guest tonight to take into consideration as well. Cirice was a healer, not a fighter.

Once he deemed that the room was just a regular room, he turned back to Cirice, who was offering the coin pouch, eyes sparkling as she bounced at the edge of the bed. A slight bit of hesitance crept into her voice as she asked Cyran if she’d done well, almost anxious for his response.

But why? Cyran was no stalwart adventurer. That kind of question was better suited for someone like Astrid or Blue Raspberry, not someone like him. Cirice didn’t know the darker nature of his profession, of course, but the question still caught him off guard.

“You hold onto the coin pouch.” Cyran gently pushed her hand with the bag back to her. “I tend to have bad luck with money when I’m with others- I don’t want to risk getting robbed.”

He considered her question as he sat down in the other bed. He did not pry his boots off yet, electing to prop his knees against his legs and rest his hands on his chin, expression thoughtful. “I think you handled yourself admirably.” He responded honestly. “You diffused the situation and prevented their fight from escalating.” Somehow. “But you did worry me by charging in during the middle of their argument.”

He paused, flashing her a smile. “That being said, good job finding work. I’m very happy that Iryla has a friend like you.” Cirice had a positive spirit that would hopefully bring Iryla out of her shell- she’d opened up a lot since Cyran had met her, but he worried that a harsh environment like Darkveil would prevent her from meeting kids her age, forming normal friendships. He even worried his own dark line of work, which he tried not to expose her to, would rub off on her. He would train her all she wanted, help give her the tools to survive, but he didn’t want that kind of life for her.

“... Speaking of, perhaps we should return to our previous topic of conversation.” Cyran said slowly. “Exactly what kind of mission did Zarius send you two on?”

Cirice watches Cyran as he scans the room, not really understanding what he's doing. Is there something to look for in the boring, mundane inn room? She gets up and follows him around for a bit, wondering if he's checking for bugs or rodents. "What are you doing...? Are you getting rid of the spiders? Theres one!" She points to a cobweb with a spider in it and squeals in fear, heading back to the bed to sit while he takes care of it. "Sorry... I'm afraid of spiders. Not for any particular reason.... They just have too many legs!" 

She takes out the coin purse and counts the solars inside, a pretty good amount. She'd just been happy that there was enough to pay for the inn for the night. Does he really expect to get robbed? When he compliments her handling things she blushes again, grateful for the kind compliments and bashful about his gentle admonishment. "Well they were loud and mean and they needed to calm down and get help. I'm sorry for barging in, but I knew it would be okay. Mother Moon protects me and she's given me the skills to help guys like that calm down and be better. Sorry for worrying you."

When he smiles she lights back up again, happy to talk about her friend, "I'm happy to have a friend like Iryla! She's taught me so much! Like how to hide better and not get caught and be more careful. Zarius sent us to go find this clue to something called a Sol stone. We snuck into a ruin full of bad people and made it out without getting hurt and then we went to this really sandy gross place and met this cool, goofy guy named Ulrich and his magic possessed dagger and kept looking for it. She'll have to tell you more about it later, I don't want you to get mad at her for the risks we took up there. I honestly don't remember all the details, sorry."

She starts taking off her scarf and furs and getting undressed and then stops, her ears turning pink as she thinks about how it would seem if she was too familiar with Cyran. "Um Cyran, is it okay if we share a room...?"

He was aware of Cirice following him around like a curious little duckling while he double checked the room, not quite understanding but interested nonetheless. She shrieked when she spotted a spider in the corner, immediately dashing for the safety of the bed. Cyran tilted his head at the little guy, reaching up a hand to pick it up with his finger. He made his way towards the window with it still perched on his hand, unlatching the glass and letting the spider out gently on the other side.

Outside, he could see the dark storm clouds gathering, pouring down sheets of snow and ice that buffeted the inn, much more violent than it had been when he entered earlier. He frowned, hoping that the inclement weather would dissipate before they left in the morning.

He closed the window, turning back to Cirice with a smile. “There, he’s all gone. I declare the room officially spider-free.”

Then he sat down and listened to Cirice recount her confidence that this Mother Moon would protect her, which… only deepened Cyran’s worry. In his opinion, putting all one’s faith in a deity would only lead to disappointment down the line. But he would withhold his comments, considering he didn’t really have any place to lecture Cirice.

He leaned back, a troubled expression still painted on his face.

“Still, I worry about what might happen if you got yourself into a situation with men much more dangerous and angry than those. Mother Moon might protect you, but please remember to show the same love and care to yourself that your lady shows to you.” He said gently.

He listened as she recounted her tale of hers and Iryla’s search for the elusive Sol Stone. He remembered his own search for that ancient artifact some time ago, back with Vi’ira. He’d never been particularly interested in harnessing the power of the gods, but he could see why Zarius would be interested in such an item. He could only assume that they’d also run into cultists, which alarmed him somewhat. She sounded almost guilty as she trailed off towards the end, asking Cyran not to get mad at Iryla for what danger they got into.

Worry gnawed at him as he listened to the story, only growing when Cirice finished. He knew he didn’t have much reason to be worried, given that Cirice, Iryla, and this Ulrich man seemed to have all come out unscathed on the other side, but he didn’t like hearing that they’d been in danger in the first place. He sighed, suddenly feeling much older than three and a half centuries.

“Iryla’s a sharp girl… and a tough one at that.” He’d seen first hand that when push came to shove she stubbornly dug her heels into the ground and fought back with all she had. But every time he heard about one of his kids going off to a place he could not follow, and he could only helplessly watch from the sidelines, left to wonder if they would not return to him, and he’d failed yet another one of his kids, too weak to protect them. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, and the lingering, cold fear that something would happen to Iryla- or Cirice- while he could not help.

“I am not mad at either of you, but I’m glad you told me.” He said eventually, breaking out of his melancholy thoughts. “I will ask her more when I’ve returned to Darkveil, but I’m sure that you all handled yourselves admirably.” And if he could, perhaps he would send this Ulrich something in thanks for looking after these kids…

The evening was drawing to a close, and Cyran began getting ready to rest alongside Cirice when the younger woman turned to him, asking if it was alright for them to share a room. Cyran paused where he’d been prying his boots off, hesitant. He hadn’t thought about it, but perhaps Cirice was uncomfortable sharing a room with a stranger, mutual connections notwithstanding.

“… If you are uncomfortable, I can easily get my own room for the night.” He suggested.

"No its fine I'm not uncomfortable if you're okay with it." Cirice's blush fades and she looks bashful, he's given her advice and compliments and care so far and he's her best friend's dad, theres nothing to worry about and she trusts him far more than she really should considering she's known him for all of an hour or two. "I'm just going to sleep in my slip. I'm not really picky." She finishes getting undressed and folds her clothes neatly over her bag, shivering slightly in the cold air of the drafty room. He can see her bare arms now, covered from fingertip to past her elbow in carefully written runes and sigils. The writing is somewhat hard to look at after a moment, the fiendish nature of the language warding off prolonged exposure. She stretches with a yawn, pulling a heavy blanket¹ out of her backpack and sliding her arms through the holes before crawling under the covers.

"Good night Cyran. Have good dreams! Maybe Mother Moon will visit my dreams tonight and give us some helpful advice. If you have to wake me up for whatever reason I'll be ready to go!" She curls up into a cozy little loaf and smiles at him for a moment before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

---

1 the Snuggle

“I’m perfectly fine with it.” Cyran said, inwardly relieved that she wasn’t uncomfortable with him. He wouldn’t have taken any offense if Cirice didn’t want to share a room with someone she barely knew, but he’d already learned that making friends came as naturally as breathing to her. He could only hope that she didn’t end up befriending the wrong person one day… she seemed confident in her ability to handle herself with her healing, but he hoped it would never have to come to that.

With a start, he realized that he was already beginning to feel as protective of her as he did Iryla and Vi’ira. Neither of the girls were his flesh and blood, but they were both so young, and in Iryla’s case, didn’t have anyone to look out for her. Even with what Cirice had told him, Cyran didn’t want to assume that Iryla desired a familial relationship with him, but he felt that way all the same. He would readily offer that support to Cirice, too, if she needed it.

He glanced over just as she removed her gloves, exposing the runes tattooed along her arms, and-

… What language was that?

Cirice pulled herself under a large blanket before he could get too close a look at them, but he could have sworn those tattoos- he could only assume they were spell or religious marks of some kind- were hauntingly familiar somehow. He opened his mouth as he tried to piece together the confusion that was brewing, but he forced himself to calm before he could get too wound up. He didn’t know enough about magic to truly make any assumptions about what he’d seen. Still, he pulled out Rowan’s old journal and flipped to an empty page at the back, marking down the runes as best as he could from the glimpse he’d gotten. Later, he could do more research, and… make sure she was safe.

He closed the book and quickly returned it to his bag. “Goodnight to you too, Cirice. I hope you have pleasant dreams as well.” Though not any prophetic ones. She deserved to have regular, happy ones, not visions from a divine entity trying to impart some unknown message in her head.

With those troubled thoughts in mind, he laid down himself, wishing Cirice, and all of his kids out there, a peaceful night.

The two of them were going to need all the rest they could get for the coming day tomorrow.

The night passes without incident, the storm outside growing by the hour and howling against the eaves of the inn. As the dawn breaks the snow is falling harder, not enough to hinder their travel completely, but enough to make it more treacherous and difficult.



Cirice's dreams were calm and quiet, Mother Moon not gracing her with her presence outside of the nightly feeling of closeness and the dark void that is her perpetual dreamscape. She awakes with a yawn, stretching out in her Snuggle all cozy, the shadows fading back from her eyes as she comes to consciousness. Its chilly in their room and she doesn't really want to get out of bed, but there is work to be done. Sleepily she gets up, tucks the snuggle away into her bag, and quietly starts getting dressed, pulling on her warm furs and plush earmuffs.



"Cyran... Let's go get breakfast!" She smiles sleepily as she laces up her boots and slides on her gloves. She's hype for the day even if she's tired. They're going to go save some people and get them home! 

"Um... How long do you think it will take for us to find the lost caravan?" She looks at Cyran, biting her lip a little from anxious energy.

As usual, Cyran’s dreams were more of an unpleasant trip down memory lane than anything nice and peaceful. He hardly remembered them by the time he roused from his sleep, the cold from outside seeping into his room serving as a perfectly good wake up call. He went about getting ready, packing up his things and making sure he had on all of his layers, including his usual cloak.

“Good morning.” He bid Cirice as the sleepy young lady got ready herself, clearly tired enough that she had yet to reach the same level of energy he’d seen yesterday. It only took a moment for her to get ready and ask about breakfast. Once they were both dressed and ready to make their way downstairs, Cirice anxiously asked him whether they’d find the caravan in time.

Cyran glanced out the window, frowning as he watched the sleet and ice hitting the window, the small tap-tap-tapping reminding him that the weather was less than optimal for a hunt. “Given the weather, we might have some difficulty…” He trailed off, tapping at his chin in thought. “That said, tracking is one of my specialties, so if the caravan leaders have any piece of fabric from the others, then it shouldn’t take us too terribly long to find them. Depending on how far out the Ice Fields are, a day out? Maybe two.”

It would not ordinarily be that bad of a trip, but Cyran had been to Frostgale a few times and had always hated the elements here. From their conversation last night Cirice mentioned she hadn’t been to Frostgale before- they would have to be especially careful.

“I think we’ll do just fine, so long as we proceed with caution.” He said, opening the door to the hallway, making his way down the stairs. They would have a long day ahead of them.

“Well Mother Moon gave me a spell to help us stay warm when I first got here and we can share my Snuggle! I’ll take one arm, you take the other and we’ll be nice and cozy!” Cirice giggles, “I promise I’ll be more careful though. I won’t dive head-first into danger. Don’t worry.”



They get downstairs and order a hearty breakfast and Cirice gets them some extra bread, sausages, and rations just in case they get caught out in the cold for longer than they expect as well as some pastries, because pastries keep morale high when things are bad. The merchants they’re working for are also at breakfast, giving them slightly guarded looks. She gives them a friendly wave which they nod politely in return to and absorb themselves in their food.


“Oh! I need to go get something for going out in the snow. Give me just a second, I’ll be right back. Now that we’ve got some solars we can afford a tent! I saw a really cute one at a shop yesterday but was just short for it!” She bounces up from her seat and hurries out of the tavern, the merchant’s gazes following her and then looking back at Cyran. It takes her about fifteen minutes and she comes back with her backpack laden with a small tent made of thick dark purple fabric. “NOW I’m ready to go! They said that dark colored tents stand out best in the snow so you don’t get missed while camping if people are looking for you so I got the prettiest one they had! Now we’ll be nice and cozy!” She looks pleased with herself, obviously proud that she thought of getting the tent before they set out.



That done she looks at Cyran with bright, excited eyes, “We’re ready to go now right?”

“A… snuggle?” Cyran asked, blinking. It took him a moment to realize that Cirice was talking about the blanket she’d worn last night with the holes in the arms. The design seemed ridiculous- if someone was going to wear a blanket with arms, shouldn’t they just invest in a sweater? But Cirice thought it would be helpful, and given that neither of them were actually accustomed to Frostgale’s weather, any extra layers would help.

Cirice ordered them both a rather large breakfast, certainly more than he would order for himself if he’d been alone. He sat and ate, keeping an eye on the tavern while Cirice flitted around like a busy bee, ordering them rations and pastries for the road. Cyran didn’t have the heart to tell her that sugar wasn’t the most nutritious to take with them on the road. It looked like she’d bought enough plain rations to go along with it, so he’d let her have her fun with shopping.

As she moved around, Cyran spotted the merchants that had hired them for the job seated a few tables away. They had no food on their table, only haggard, suspicious looks on their faces. Whatever good mood they were in last night seemed to have faded come sunrise. Cyran kept a wary eye on them, not one to blindly trust his employers, when Cirice interrupted him by returning to the table and declaring that she’d forgotten to buy something.

“Alright, don’t get lost, and don’t…” But Cirice was already dashing out the door before Cyran could finish his warning. At least one of them was excited, he mused to himself. Her energy would no doubt be invaluable once they actually set off from the city into Frostgale’s miserable environment.

While she was gone, though, Cyran would take the opportunity to get some work of his own done. He stood from his chair, languidly approaching the two merchants, who immediately regarded him with an expression that was considerably more guarded than the one they’d given Cirice.

“What do you want?”

Cyran placed his hands on the back of one of the empty chairs, leaning forward as he regarded the two coolly. When he spoke, his voice held none of the warmth it had when talking to Cirice.

“Just delivering a warning. My friend might be trusting, but rest assured that I am not fooled so easily. Now, I’m going to ask you a question, and I expect an honest answer. Think carefully before you speak- be warned, I’m quite good at spotting lies.” His tone was cold and detached, but his gaze was sharp as he looked between the two men. “Is there anything about this mission that you’re hiding from us?”

Silence.

One of the men swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as Cyran stared down at him with the precision and accuracy of a man pinning a butterfly to a cork board. Neither spoke for a long time.

“… We told you all we know about the missing cart.” The second one answered eventually, finding his voice before his companion could. “If you’re expecting some sort of trick, you’ll find none from us. We just want our things back.”

Cyran could find no lie in his words, so he straightened, satisfied with that answer. “Good.”

“No need to be so paranoid, man.” The first one grumbled. “We’re paying you, after all.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. In my line of work, it is all too easy to find yourself in an unpleasant situation by trusting the wrong people.” He apologized. “Now, could I bother you gentlemen with another odd request? Would any of you happen to have a scrap of clothing from any of the missing merchants?”

“Now what the hell are you-“

“Just humor me, if you’d please.” Cyran assured him calmly.

“…” The two shared an uncertain look before the second reached into his bag and pulled out a small, white square of cloth. “He sent us his handkerchief with the messenger bird. That’s the sign for help.”

Cyran held out his hand, expectant. The merchant handed the cloth over, which Cyran neatly folded and tucked into his pocket. “Thank you two very much for your help.”

The two stiffened as Cyran approached them, standing between the men and resting a hand on each of their shoulders. “And rest assured, if I learn you’re lying to me, and there’s something you’ve hidden that will put me or my friend in danger, then I’ll be back.” And they would never see him coming.^[1] Cyran didn’t bother saying anything else, as he knew that any memory of himself had already faded into obscurity in their minds. They would be able to recall Cirice, and her bubbly and infectious cheer, but not the shadow that lurked behind her, waiting to strike if anything went awry. Call it extra insurance- they wouldn’t be looking over their shoulder for him if they couldn’t remember he existed.

Cyran was already waiting for Cirice outside the tavern when she returned with her backpack, now sporting a dark backpack slung across her back and over her coat.

“Good thinking.” Cyran praised once she declared she’d dashed off to get a tent. “We shouldn’t have any problems camping now. Do you need me to hold anything as we get going? You’ve got a lot of heavy stuff.” As they both started making their way down the street out of the Pale City, he held his hand out to accept one of the heavier items Cirice was now carrying, so she wasn’t shouldering the burden of all of their camping materials alone.

---

1. Fade From Memory

“Nope, I’m fine!” Completely misunderstanding Cyran’s outstretched hand she takes it in hers and practically pulls him out of the inn like a sled dog. The weather outside has taken a turn for the worse, the snow and sleet falling heavily and the biting, wet cold seeping all the way into their bones. Regardless of the weather Cirice is in high spirits, clutching Cyran’s hand tight and swinging their arms in a joyful rhythm.



“The lost merchants are north of here, right? We might get lost in all this mess. Luckily I have a spell I was waiting to try for finding the way!” She lets go of Cyran’s hand for a moment and brings both her hands up into a praying motion in front of her lips, closing her eyes and saying a quiet prayer to Mother Moon to guide their path¹. Her hands unfold and a small brightly glowing orb shaped like a lilac moon floats above her palms. The moon hovers there for a moment before shooting up into the air and dancing above their heads just before them. The pale purple light washes over the snow around them, making their vicinity a little pocket of soft purple. “There! That will point us north for a bit!”

She slips her hand back into his and takes a few steps forward, the little moon floating ahead pointing the way. The journey might be rough and perilous but they'll be just fine together, she knows it! They start their trek into the tundra without too much difficulty, trudging into the knee-deep snow as a team.

---

1 North Star

When he offered his hand to hold something he didn’t expect Cirice to grab it instead, and pull him along through the street with a speed and exuberance he honestly should have expected. The snow was beginning to fall harder around them, which wasn’t an ideal sign given the task that they were set out to do. Cyran grimaced as snow pelted his face, severely limiting his visibility as they walked through the streets. At least with Cirice holding his hand, they had less of a chance to get separated.

“If I remember my geography, they are.” Cyran replied while Cirice let go of his hand briefly, summoning a small moon in the palm of her hands that hovered in the air for the briefest second for illuminating their path forward. Cyran stared at the soft lavender light, a soft smile painting his face at the spell. It was a small bit of magic, but a rather pretty one. It was always nice to see magic used for benign things- healing, or creating light- rather than harming.

As he stared up at the small, lavender moon, Cirice grabbed his hand and pulled him along after the moon, practically skipping heavily. They’d reached the borders of the Pale City by now, approaching the thick layers of snow that covered the dirt pathways, already creating a thick layer that covered any visible path. They truly would be relying on navigation alone… it was a good thing Cyran had acquired a map of Frostgale when he arrived.

“Once we get closer, I’ll be able to track down their specific location easier.” Cyran said, brushing some more snow out of his face and hair. They’d begun marching through the thick layers of snow in earnest, slower than Cyran was used to moving. “Until then, keeping on this path should get us to the Ice Fields.”

As they walked, Cyran figured he would share a story of his own. Cirice had told him plenty about her own adventures. He wasn’t much of a talker when it came to sharing his own adventures- not many of them were as exciting or pleasant as Cirice’s- but this particular story was innocent enough. “You know, Wolfe- er, Blue Raspberry- and I made a trip up here once. We were doing an escort job together through Dragon’s Cradle. When we got to the border, they immediately turned around and left the next day because they couldn’t handle the cold.” He laughed. The story wasn’t especially humorous, but given that they were currently in knee-high snow, with dark clouds brewing overhead, it felt appropriate to tell.

As they trudged through the knee-deep snow and the relentless blizzard hand-in-hand Cirice is happy to listen avidly to Cyran talk about his adventures. She looks up to him with all her heart, eyes big and excited even as snow blows into them. “Did you escort them back when they turned around? Or maybe you kept on and that’s how we met?” She muses aloud with a smile. The tip of her nose is bright red from the cold and she pulls her scarf up to cover it. No amount of covering can keep the cloying cold out, but every bit of warmth that can be saved really helps.



Traveling is slow-going in these conditions and by the time the sun is setting they’ve only made minimal progress. At this rate it will maybe take them more time than predicted to get to the caravan. The pair find a small cluster of trees that provide some shelter from the wind and begin setting up a cozy little campsite. Together they set up the small purple tent against a tree, neatly piling snow on the sides to insulate it like a makeshift igloo. Cirice snaps her fingers and creates a merry little campfire that warms the little copse nicely¹. Then she turns to Cyran with the most serious look he’s seen on her face thus far.



“Cyran. This is the first opportunity in my whole life, please join me in this endeavor. We must make… A SNOWELF!!!”

---

1 Camp fire

“I didn’t go with them. They left, and I stayed here to take care of some business before I return to Darkveil.” He admitted. Mostly, he was just taking on a couple of odd jobs to make a bit of cash before he made his way back to the Rookery. “And that’s how I met you.” He added with a smile.

Travel was excruciatingly slow, and the weather was only making it more difficult- the layer of clouds blocking the sun was so thick that Cyran was only able to make out that the sun had set at all because of his sensitive eyesight. They decided to make camp for the night, and get some rest before they started again tomorrow. As such, Cyran was cold, damp, and completely soggy and miserably as he helped finish setting up the tent while Cirice magically conjured up a campfire for them. It did little to warm him, but it would at least keep them at temperatures above frostbite for the evening.

And then Cirice turned to him, looking the most serious and determined he’d seen her so far, before asking him if he wanted to make… a snow elf.

Cyran blinked. He’d heard of the tradition, but never actually seen one made before. But if Cirice wanted to try… “Sure. Why not?”

He watched patiently as Cirice explained to him how to put together a snow-elf. It mostly involved rolling snow together in little balls, stacking it together, and decorating it with bits and pieces to make it look like an elf. Cyran obediently listened while she delegated tasks- they started with rolling snowballs, which turned out to be an excruciating task in of itself. There was a certain point where rolling the snow became too heavy, and Cyran and Cirice had to push together, but they eventually made a suitable base.

Cirice started on the second ball, the torso, while Cyran decided to walk around and forage for sticks and rocks to decorate the snow-elf with. “I won’t stray too far, I promise.” The snow was falling hard enough that their visibility was limited. He didn’t want to wander away and turn around only to find that he’d lost sight of the camp.

He found a cluster of trees not far from the campsite- happy with his find, he started digging around and collecting whatever sticks he could find. There were a few larger ones he gathered in his arms, and a couple of stones that he figured would make the buttons, like Cirice described. He had no idea why a snow-elf would need buttons specifically, but he wouldn’t be one to argue with tradition.

When he bent down, however, Cyran noticed something small and fluttering in the corner of his vision. He turned to find a small, white snowball perched on a log. Confused, he watched it for a moment, when all of a sudden the little thing moved, and Cyran realized that it wasn’t a normal snowball at all.

… A snowbird?

The little creature blinked at him, flapping its tiny wings, and Cyran’s heart melted.

A few minutes later, Cirice saw Cyran running up to the campsite with a bundle of sticks and stones in one hand, and a tiny snowling cracked in the other, eyes wide. He held out his hand where the snowling was cradled so she could get a better look at it. “I want to collect some more of these and bring them to Iryla.”

He smiled down at the little snow bird, a fond smile on his face. Iryla had been working so hard in training, pushing herself as if possessed by a vengeance to prove her worth, and he was beyond proud of her. But he wanted to give her good memories, too. At the very least, he hoped this would give her a smile. Those were few and far inbetween, but growing more frequent, and he wanted to be able to give her as much as he could to continue to see her happy.

Cirice had been sculpting ears on the side of the snowelf’s head when Cyran runs up to her. She probably should have been worried but he looks so cute and excited as he shows her the fluffy little bird in his hand. Its adorable, like a little snowball with beady little eyes and the smallest beak she’s ever seen. She squeals in delight.

“Oh its so cuuuute!” She gives Cyran a wide eyed smile, “Let’s find her lots!” She takes the rocks and sticks from him and sets them down by the side of the snowelf and follows him back over to the trees where he found the first. “Birdies, please come out sweeties!”


The runes on her arms begin to glow under her gloves and she summons her own cute little pet¹. Ur stands out darkly against the pure white snow, his wings twitching with excitement. “Ur help us find little snowbirds! Don’t hurt them at all, they’re a present!” The wolpertinger shakes itself out and hops away to find its prey with zeal even as its mistress starts looking around for the little snowball birds.


Cirice’s eyes aren’t the best in the snow and she bounces around looking for any movement or anything interesting to no avail for a while until Ur happily brings her two little puff balls and puts them in her hands. “Thank you Ur!” She kisses his head lovingly. “Cyran we got two more!” She hurries over with UR on her shoulder to show him their find. “I didn’t find any myself but my little Ur did! All I found was some weird prints in the snow.” 

---

1 Summon: Minor Minion

Try as he might, Cyran didn’t manage to find any more of those snowbirds. As he was lamenting his poor luck, he caught Cirice casting some spell out of the corner of his eye. A few moments later, a strange creature coalesced from the shadows of the white background, nose twitching and wings fluttering behind them while Cirice gave it her request. Cyran’s eyebrows rose as the little creature set off in search of the snow-birds. Cirice was much more capable at magic than she’d initially expressed to him… she was even capable of summoning a familiar of sorts. Cyran himself was no mage, and the magic he knew was not born from practice but from forces he could not understand, but he had a feeling that her magic was far more powerful than she herself might even believe.

His musings were cut short by Ur’s return, carrying two more snowbirds in its mouth, which it dropped into Cirice’s hands. She shrieked in delight before dashing over to Cyran, showing him her find.

“Three, huh? That should be enough for Iryla…” He accepted them from Cirice before flashing her a smile. “Great find, Cirice. Thank you for your help.” He ruffled her hair before reaching into his pouch and pulling out a small vial. He deposited the snowbirds inside, hoping the creatures wouldn’t melt- but it seemed whatever kind of enchanted snow they were made of, it was more robust than the stuff around them. Cyran delicately put the vial back in his bag, which would later be decorated with a ribbon and a piece of parchment that read Iryla’s name in neat handwriting- and above that, a small doodle of the half-elf so she would know the gift was for her while she still couldn’t completely recognize her own name written down.

But that would come once this was all said and done. For now, Cyran paused as Cirice continued on, describing the prints she’d found in the snow.

His eyes narrowed, immediately on guard.

“Our own?” He asked, but he had a feeling he already knew what the answer would be. “Can you take me to where you saw them?” He asked, ready to follow Cirice to the strange spot she’d described and investigate the tracks. In this snowfall, for something to leave an impression, meant that they weren’t far away. He didn’t like the idea of someone- or something- straying too close to their campsite.