Cirice leans into the hair ruffling, feeling suddenly nostalgic for home. Cyran seems like a really great dad, he reminds her of her own father. He’s just as kind and caring and just as gentle with helping her find her way. Iryla is very lucky to have found someone like Cyran to love and take care of her. She knows that the thoughtful gift will mean a lot to her best friend, and she hopes she gets to see the smile on Iryla’s face when she opens the little vial of snow birds. She watches Cyran doodle the little image of Iryla and thinks its really cute that both of them share a passion for art.

After the brief reprieve of cuteness Cyran is back on his guard though, concerned about the footprints and making Cirice wish she hadn’t mentioned them and ruined the moment. Dutifully she leads him back to the place she found the tracks, a natural gap between the trees which might be a deer path or something. There the tracks have already begun to collect snow and be covered up, only the slight tree cover keeping them from disappearing entirely. The prints are large, too large to be human, but appear to be bipedal and somewhat humanoid. Toes like sausages and pads the size of Cirice’s head walking along the path, but not a single set, three or four sets, some already partially covered by the falling snow.



“See? They’re weird. I don’t know what could have made them. Ur said like a big monkey or something maybe. What do you think Cyran? They’re gone, whatever made them. Ur and I looked around and never found them.” She shrugs a little, giving the woods around them a glimpse before looking at him. "I don't think whatever it was will bother us. At least I hope not. I can have Ur watch us as we sleep if you like."

Cyran followed Cirice to the place that she’d spotted the footprints, only to freeze when he saw what she’d pointed out. They were large, much larger than any animal he’d ever seen, and several sets of them at that. Cyran’s eyes widened as he knelt down close to one of the prints, trying to get a better look. He was no tracker in the conventional sense, not the way Gerhart was, but he could at least tell that these must have been the prints of some monster that had been prowling the area.

He swallowed, suddenly uneasy.

“I’m not the most well versed in the beasts of Frostgale…” He murmured, deep in thought. “Some kind of snow-beast?”

That didn’t bode well. Neither he nor Cirice were accustomed to the harsh weather of the north, much less equipped to handle any beasts that might be prowling the area… especially if there were multiple monsters. Cyran stood, brushing the snow off his dark cloak before turning back to Cirice, trying to conceal the worry in his dark eyes. “We will be okay.” He hoped the tremble in his voice could simply be attributed to the cold. “Ur can keep watch, but I’ll stay up and keep an eye out, alright? I don’t need much sleep.”

He ushered her back to the tent, leaving the tracks alone. They seemed to be leading away from the camp… Cyran only hoped that they would stay that way. He still glanced nervously behind him as they returned to the tent, but the snow was too thick for him to make anything out.

“Why don’t we finish that snow elf before you get some sleep?” He suggested.

Cirice nods happily and together they finish up the snow elf and get cozy in the tent. The bonfire burns brightly and Ur sits outside, ready and waiting for anything that might try to bother them in the night. She unfurls her sleeping bag and pulls out her Snuggle from her bag, spreading it out and sticking her arm in one of the holes. She holds out the other side of the blanket for him so he can have the other arm hole.



“At least we’ll be safe and warm. Don’t worry, Ur won’t let anything happen while we sleep, he’s a good boy. You should definitely get a lot of sleep. We’ll be going pretty far tomorrow, won’t we?” She looks at the top of the tent, wiggling furiously in the wind and shivers. “I think I’ll wear my blanket as we travel tomorrow, it’s only getting colder. Is this a blizzard? I’ve only heard about them from travelers. We didn’t get many people from outside of Moonglade traveling to our island, but sometimes they’d bring tales from all over the world. I’d only ever heard of snow until I came here. Its very beautiful, when the world is covered with a perfect white blanket. Its like all the impurities and imperfections are whipped clean. But then again it drains all the color away too.”

The cold seeped into his bones as he and Cirice finished up the snow-elf, putting on the decorations that Cyran had gathered earlier, including sticks for arms and little pebbles for eyes. Once they finished, Cyran took a step back, a satisfied expression on his face. “If you tilt your head, it almost looks like an elf… kind of.” If elves looked like they were made of lumpy snow packed by hands that had never made such a construction before. The sun was low in the sky by the time they finished, which meant it was probably time for them both to try and get some uneasy sleep before the long day ahead.

The bonfire crackled, providing at least some semblance of warmth as Cyran pulled out his bedroll. His coat was relatively thick, but despite his layers even he was shivering as he readied himself for a cold night. He wasn’t expecting Cirice to get his attention, waving half of her snuggle in his direction. Cyran’s brows furrowed, confused. “Is something the matter? Aren’t you going to wear the blanket?”

She gave him a look, as if saying, it’s for you, silly!

“Oh!” Cyran hadn’t expected her to want to share her warmth with him. “Are you sure? I want you to preserve your heat…” But then Cirice only scooted closer to him, whacking him with the empty sleeve. “Oh, alright, if you're absolutely certain.” It wouldn’t do for either of them to be too cold to function tomorrow. He’d heard horror stories of men in Frostgale who’d developed sickness from the cold that resulted in limbs needing to be amputated, and he shuddered to think about that happening. Hesitantly, he pulled the other sleeve over his arm until he and Cirice were pressed shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

The wind roared outside, snow pounding on Cirice’s tent. Cyran nodded along as she spoke about the snow, only growing more concerned when she mentioned the blizzard. “It might be the onset of one… if it hasn’t started already. The locals seemed to think a snowstorm was brewing.” He turned his attention to the snow outside. “I think it’s pretty. It reminds me of the ash from Darkveil, but… silent.” That was the only way he could think to describe it. The snow seemed to muffle everything in Frostgale. “It’s peaceful. Although,” He mused with a frown, “I wish it wasn’t so cold.”

There wasn’t much he missed about Moonglade, but the moderate temperature and pleasant weather was definitely on that list. Perhaps if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was walking through the forests rather than freezing his ass off in the middle of Frostgale’s snow fields. At least Cirice was by his side, helping him stay warm and keeping his spirits high with a bright smile.

“You should get some rest, if you can.” He said eventually. “I’ll stay awake a little while longer and keep watch with Ur. The both of us will protect you while you sleep.”

“I’ve never been to Darkveil… Maybe I’ll go there sometime. Ash? Hmmm…” Cirice muses, thinking of how meager her adventures have been compared to Cyran’s, “I don’t know the quiet is a little too much in my opinion. Its nice and calm, but after a while its just creepy. The cold is pretty terrible though. I’ve never felt this cold in my life.” She pauses and thinks about it. “Well… Maybe once…”

Yawning, she snuggles down into the blankets without elaborating, giving Cyran another sleepy smile, “Okay. Good night. May Mother Moon bring you the sweetest of dreams.” She curls up against him and falls into a deep sleep almost instantly. Her breathing is soft and her brow twitches slightly.

Outside Ur keeps his vigil up, wandering around the tent prepared to attack anything that would harm his mistress or Cyran. Cyran keeps alert inside the tent throughout the night, staring at the entrance in a meditative state, ready for any danger that might come their way.

But the night passes uneventfully. Mostly.

As dawn looms before them, Cirice mumbles softly in her sleep, rolling over and nuzzling into Cyran’s chest.“Moonlight falls, the night is long. Shadows lurk in unsuspecting places….” The voice is strange, a whisper layered over itself, Cirice’s usual voice but also something deeper that resonates in his ears and lingers in his mind. Before he can really react Cirice yawns once again and her eyes flutter open.

“Mmmm…” She hums, “mornin’ Cyran…” She smiles at him drowsily, unaware of what she had said to him in her sleep.

“You could visit Iryla and I at the Rookery. That’s where we’re staying at the moment.” He offered. He wished he could say that Darkveil was a lovely place like the Crescent Isles, but the volcanic city was more hardened than what Cirice was probably used to. But it was what he had, and it was home. The first one he’d had in almost a decade, if not longer. That meant something. It would be nice to share that with Cirice and Iryla together. “... And the silence is strange, but you get used to it.”

He noticed her yawning as she bundled up deeper under the blankets. Cyran shifted, maneuvering himself to better help tuck Cirice in. “Sweet dreams to you, as well, Cirice.” He wouldn’t fall asleep- not yet. For the next few hours, he would sit absolutely still, with his back ramrod straight, as he kept an eye on the night sky outside, wary of anything that might pop out and attack them. Every once in a while, a sharp crack of a breaking twig or the rustling of wind outside made him flinch, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger, but when nothing else happened, he forced himself to relax. Eventually, slowly, he began to drift off, sinking into a meditative state…

A voice cut through the silence, rousing Cyran from his sleep.

“Cirice? Wha-” He rubbed at his eyes, still bleary as he listened to her dream-addled mumbling. At first, whatever she was saying was incoherent, until she said something that made Cyran’s blood run cold.

What did she say?

Had he misheard that? For a moment, Cyran wondered if he was dreaming himself until he pinched his wrist and felt a jolt of sharp pain up his arm.

It must have been a hallucination, he thought as Cirice rolled over and curled against his chest. Just something my sleep-addled mind made up… that was the only thing that could have explained why her voice had sounded so strange. Cyran’s eyes slid shut once more, returning to an uneasy rest, though those words still lingered in his mind. Yes, it had to be a figment of his imagination, because there was no way that Cirice knew about the cursed magic that had seeped into him, the darkness that threatened to pull him into the shadows where he would never return.

By the time he woke up again, Cyran had fully convinced himself that it was all just a nightmare.

“Good morning, Cirice.” Cyran mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “... Did you sleep well?” There was only a little bit of tension that bled into his voice as the two got ready to depart, continuing their trek to the missing caravan. He wasn't sure what answer he was searching for- even if she'd really said something like that in her sleep, he doubted she would remember it the next morning. She certainly sounded as if everything was normal, which only made Cyran think it really had been his mind playing tricks on him.

“Mmhmm. Mother Moon was there as always. There is comfort in the dark of my dreams.” She closes her eyes again and nuzzles her cheek into his chest once more, but then realizes what she’s doing and sits up straight with a start, tangling herself in the snuggle. “Oh I am so sorry Cyran! I didn’t mean to snuggle into you, my bad!” She blushes profusely, hiding her face into her hands with a groan. This is her best friend’s dad, not her own father; she shouldn’t be cuddling up to him and invading his space. What if she makes him uncomfortable? What if things get awkward between them because of this? If she could turn invisible right now she would.

“I am a mess. Please don’t be mad. You just remind me a lot of my dad and I miss him a lot. It has been a while since I was home and I guess my brain just thought you were close enough to him and I just…” The words pour out of her in a hurried, frantic rush, “That was not what I was going for when I suggested we share a blanket, I just thought it would be hel;pful to conserve body heat and not freeze out her. I’ve heard that sometimes people freeze in snow and die and I don’t want you to die. It would make Iryla really sad!” She peeks up at him through her fingers, swallowing hard and hoping he forgives her.

There was that name again, Mother Moon. Cyran still couldn’t help the sense of unease that name brought him, nor the mention of dark dreams.

Calm down, he thought to himself. You’re being paranoid for no reason, seeing shadows in the corner of your eye and calling it a ghost.

He was quickly interrupted from his musings by Cirice suddenly snapping awake, as if only now realizing she’d unintentionally curled up against him in the cold of the night, profusely apologizing as she tried to wiggle around in the snuggle and got tangled in the blankets even further. Cyran blinked, still sluggish while he processed what she was upset about.

“Hm? Oh, you have no need to apologize.” He said, reaching up a still blanket-covered hand to ruffle her hair like he had the day before. The fuzz from the blanket made some of her hair stand up from the static residue. “As long as you were warm and comfortable.” Truth be told, he hadn’t even thought much about it- waking up with Cirice curled up against his chest reminded him of days long past, where Marlow would knock on his bedroom door and ask to sleep with him after a nightmare. He would hold her to his chest and chase away the bad dreams with stories of knights and princesses and fantasies where everything had a happy ending until she felt safe enough to rest while he shielded her from the rest of the world.

He froze when she mentioned that he reminded her of her own father. “I’m sorry you miss him.” He murmured, so touched that he wasn’t sure what to say. He definitely didn’t deserve that kind of comparison, but he was glad she felt safe enough at Cyran’s side. He smiled when she shyly peeked through her fingers. “Why don’t you tell me more about him? Perhaps talking will ease some of your homesickness.”

“...It might. Chichi must be thinking of me… I heard when you’re homesick that means the one you’re thinking of is thinking of you.” Cirice drops her hands into her lap and looks at them with a soft, sad smile. “My father is a fisherman. He’s quiet and kind. He only says what he needs to but its always just enough. When I left the island he told me he was proud of me. He gave me his blessing even though I’d never left home before…” Tears come unbidden to her eyes and she wipes them with the sleeve of the snuggle. “He reminds me of the calm sea, gentle and still. When I was a child I collected shells from all over the island and he would bring me any interesting ones that got caught in his nets. Your snowbirds for Iryla reminded me of that…”

She untangles herself from the blanket and reaches for her bag, pulling out a handful of random shells from a pocket inside and showing them to him. There are several sizes and colors of scallop shells, bright oranges and pinks and soft whites, mottled abalone shells that gleam iridescently on the inside with mother of pearl, and varieties of shells that spiral into cones or swirl into themselves. “These are just some of them… I like to give them to my friends but I’m afraid I’ll run out one day. I have quite a few cowries but they wouldn't make good nightlights.” She picks out a perfect greyish conch shell half the size of her palm and the runes along her arm flash with soft light as the shell begins to glow gently, throwing spiraling illumination onto the walls of the tent¹. “Its silly, but its a little piece of home I can share with others. The Crescent Isles aren’t the most inviting to others but Shingetsu welcomes visitors. I’d love to show all my friends my home someday, but for now I can only offer this.”

---

1 Light

“He sounds like a wonderful person.” It broke Cyran’s heart to see Cirice so homesick, with a wistful expression in her eyes that eventually grew misty with tears as the memories flowed forth, gaining traction until she had to wipe her face with the sleeve of her snugget to prevent from crying completely. A small part of him couldn’t help but wonder why she’d even set out adventuring in the first place… she was so young, and so far away from home after having grown up on a small island her entire life. If Mother Moon was real, he wondered what kind of cruel deity would tear a little girl from her home and send her to fight her battles. It wasn’t one he wanted anything to do with, not when he watched Cirice, small and vulnerable, bring out her seashells from her bag, showing him all the lovely trinkets from her home, and could only think that she shouldn’t be out here, risking her life after ancient artifacts and missing caravans when she had a happy home to return to.

Cyran found himself hating this Mother Moon even more.

He still found a soft smile drifting to his face as he sifted through the shells, delicate and intricate, in all shapes and colors. “They’re beautiful.” And even more so when she lit them up, casting soft patterned lights onto the inside of the tent. “I don’t think it’s silly. They’re a piece of you for others to carry around and cherish. I keep mementos myself.” He reached into his pouch, pulling out a small, corded leather bag, pouring the contents into his palm. The collection of trinkets didn’t seem to have much rhyme or reason- a small wood carving here, a necklace here, a feather there. There was also the bottle of bird-snowlings for Iryla nestled in the eclectic pile.

“I collect them wherever I go so I can give them to others-” Marlow, Vi’ira, Iryla- “So they can remember that I’m thinking of them. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s why your father collected them, too. Treasure those memories of him, okay?”

He’d visited the Crescent Isles before, but only briefly to Shingetsu. The port town was a common place to do business with Starlight City merchants, and as such, he’d visited every so often, but never for pleasure. “I’ll visit your home with you, if you’d like.” He promised. Cyran could not offer much aside from the small comforts of home, and the hope that one day Cirice would be able to show him that place that made her so happy. The Crescent Isles were far away from Frostgale, but as they were curled up and huddled away from the cold of the north, she could at least take some comfort in reminiscing, and he would take comfort in listening.

Cirice nods and smiles melancholically at his little pile. “I know Iryla and those you love will appreciate your trinkets. Even more since you don’t get to see each other often… I had heard that being apart makes you love someone more, and now I understand that was right. I really miss my parents, both of them, but I know they’ll be there when I return home. It's nice to know there is a home waiting for me.” She looks up at Cyran with big lavender eyes full of appreciation. “I’d love it if you came to see my home. Maybe we could even bring Iryla along and I could show you both.”



She tucks her shells away, starting to give him the glowing one but deciding to wait for the right moment. “There is a magic pool near my home, it sits at the base of a waterfall and on a full moon it reflects the entire moon back out into the sky… Its a sacred place. I’d love to show it to you someday.” She pulls herself together and smacks her cheeks with the palms of her hands. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be focused on this, we’ve got people to save!”



She wiggles to her feet, getting her outfit and snuggle situated and starts packing up their camp. It was a really nice moment but they can’t tarry. Lives are on the line. She opens the tent flap and instantly a wave of frigid snow is blown in on them. The blizzard is truly coming down now. She summons her little moon¹ once again as they break down the tent and get ready to go. They should get to the caravan today and then they can hurry back. If the men are hurt she can heal them and warm them with her magic, but she can’t bring back the dead.

"Mother Moon protect them a little longer." She whispers as they set out once again.

---

1 North Star

“I do miss Iryla a lot.” Cyran agreed. In truth, these days whenever he ventured out on his own, the absence of all of his kids was an ever-present ache, one he hadn’t realized had wormed its way into his chest until it was too late. The past ten years, he’d gotten accustomed to that loneliness, missing Marlow every day until it got numb. Now, he had Vi’ira, who was an adult with her own parents though he still couldn’t help but miss, and he had Iryla. Their progress in stumbling their way towards family was slow and hesitant- a man who could no sooner admit he was worthy of being a father once more than the daughter would fully believe he treasured her. But it was a small spot of peace that they had made for themselves, and he hoped that it would grow over time.

They said that home was there the people you loved were, but it had been a long time since Cyran had experienced that. It was a strange feeling, constantly having the Rookery on the back of his mind, awaiting the day he could return to it. That would not be any time soon, though, so all he could do was collect things and try not to feel too… homesick.

“Perhaps you can visit your parents soon.” Cyran said. “I’m sure they would appreciate seeing you and knowing you’re okay, even if only for a short while. You can trust me on that one. And I’d love to see the pool.”

But then Cirice pulled herself up and started getting ready, and the little bubble of warmth and safety burst as they had to set out of their way once more. The blizzard was in full force today, making it especially difficult to see even with Cirice’s star guiding them. They’d need a little extra help- as they walked, still hand in hand so neither of them would be separated in this torrent of snow, Cyran pulled out the piece of cloth that the merchant had given him, suddenly picking up the scent of the direction that the traders were in.^[1] He pointed Cirice the right way, and the two shifted course to make their way towards the ice fields.

Once more, the cold seeped back into Cyran’s body, making it difficult for him to move fully. Cirice was still wrapped in the snuggle, which hopefully granted her some warmth, but Cyran only had his cloak and his jacket to prevent him from feeling the elements. All he could do was press forward and hope they found the traders okay, and that the men had managed to weather the storm.

---

1. Hunted Prey

Its hard to move. Each step is difficult. The snow is piling almost to Cirice’s waist at this point. The Snuggle keeps her warm but it isn’t waterproof and she’s had to tuck the end up into the top of her corset to keep it from getting drenched in the snow. The warmth from this morning has long since left her limbs, leaving only numbness behind. Cyran’s words had warmed her heart, but they’re both struggling to stay warm in this blizzard.

Then it hits her.

With a flash of inspiration and a gleeful, playful gleam in her eye, Cirice stops, turns to Cyran and pulls him into a hug. “I’ve got an idea! We should share body heat!” She stands in front of him and takes the end of the snuggle, wrapping it around to cover his back and then pulls his arms through the holes with hers, basically tying them together with his head above hers. It's not much more difficult moving like this than it is just moving through the snow in the first place, but it is much warmer. She’s practically standing on his feet and moving with him, her head directly below his like some kind of weird stacked totem pole of elves. For extra warmth she summons Ur¹ to sit on her chest and provide whatever warmth the little creature of darkness can. If nothing else he is soft and fuzzy and comforting to have with them.

“Take that blizzard!” She exclaims triumphantly.

---

1 summon minor minion

Cyran was surprised when Cirice suddenly stopped them before enveloping him in the snuggle, closing them both in so they could share warmth as they walked. “Cirice, what are you doing…?” Cyran trailed off awkwardly as Cirice stood on top of his feet, creating some kind of mega-elf, with Cirice tucked under him and his chin resting on her head. their arms were both shoved in the arm holes, giving off the impression of a snow-covered, two-headed, four handed elf monster.

“Are you sure this is the most efficient way to move…?” Cyran asked, but Cirice had already moved their arms up, pointing upwards at the snow before triumphantly declaring, TAKE THAT, BLIZZARD! And Cyran figured they were actually doing this. At least it helped preserve some body heat- he felt a little warmer now, with both him, Cirice, and Ur all trapped in the snuggle…

An idea occurred to him. Cyran didn’t often use this particular ability of his, not when he was on the job unless he needed to conceal his identity. But perhaps it would help them conserve body heat while they made their way to the caravan. The enchantment in Cyran’s necklace took effect, until he- or rather, she- looked a little different than she was before.

“Alright, let’s go.” She said, before trudging awkwardly through the snow. It was difficult with Cirice balancing on her feet, but it wasn’t much more difficult than navigating blindly while hand in hand. Cyran could still sense where the merchant was, so she slowly guided Cirice in that direction at a grueling pace, buffeted by the wind and elements, but definitely warmer with the two of them bundled up. Eventually, after what could have been minutes or hours, Cyran thought she spotted something in the distance. It was small, barely so much as a dark smudge against the white background, but it was the only thing around for miles.

“I think that’s them.” She muttered, loud enough for Cirice to hear. “We’re getting close.” Hopefully they were in one piece and not frozen into blocks of ice from the inclement weather.

---

Beads of They

Quite pleased with herself for coming up with this clever way of conserving their body heat Cirice was suddenly met with an odd sensation. Her head was resting against Cyran’s chiseled chest and then suddenly her head is pushed forward several inches and she’s confused. She looks up at Cyran in befuddlement as he starts to speak and just gets a face full of titty.

“Bwuh?” She blinks up at him, er, her. Cyran’s voice is different too. Higher pitched and… yeah he’s a woman now, the lines and planes of her face softened slightly and the,uh, obvious. Should she freak out about this? Is this normal? What kind of crazy magic is this? Cyran is not reacting at all, this must be normal. She shouldn’t freak out. Her head nestled within the ample cleavage of Cyran she’s quite warm and cozy and the weight on her shoulders is rather pleasant. They continue their trek together with Cirice carefully balancing on Cyran’s feet in a sort of brain fog.

“I think that’s them. We’re getting close.” Cyran mutters in Cirice’s ear, bringing her back to reality. The shapes are barely a smudge of darkness in the sea of endless white but there’s movement there.

“Let’s hurry!” She wriggles a little, but that’s easier said than done. The last leg of their journey is no less difficult than the rest but soon they’re near enough to see the small circle of wagons and tents clustered together against a fallen log being battered by the winds. The dregs of a campfire covered in snow is the only sign of life. Not a good sign. “Hello?” She calls out uncertainly.

A long, pregnant pause carried on the howl of the wind is all that answers Cirice’s cry.

And then… A head peeks out of a tent with trepidation. “H-hello?” A gaunt, weary man answers, looking at them. “Oh what fresh hell is this?”