As she slowly trudged through the snow, Scypha pressed her icy, trembling hands to her mouth and exhaled, watching her breath form a mist in the chilly air.

It didn't help. Her breath might have been as cold as the freezing wind that blew around her. Her trembling hands remained as cold and numb as they ever were. She couldn't even feel the snowflakes landing on her fingers anymore.

Her companion, however, was completely unfazed by such burdens. The young gray wolf ran excitedly ahead of her, then came right back and wildly shook off the blanket of snow that covered his fur.

"Oh, not onto me, Darko!" Scypha shouted. "Can't you do that anywhere else? I'm dying of frostbite here!"

The wolf looked at her, perked up his ears, and then bounded through the snow to her side, coming up beside her and nuzzling his head between her chest and elbow.

"Oh … Fine, I guess it's okay … I love you too, Darko," Scypha said, stopping her gait and lowering her forehead to his. "And you're lucky I do. I'd kill for a coat of fur like that…"

In response, Darko gave her face a nice and rough lick.

"Argh… At least your tongue is warm ... But if you wet me, I'm just going to get even colder! Come on, Darko, let's hurry to Lyerateh. Just a few more days to get there and the trip back, and we'll be at my coming-of-age party. I'll make sure you get plenty to eat. You won't have to steal from my pack anymore."

Darko's gaze lingered on her for a moment while he licked his nose. Then, he slipped his head out from under her arm and leaped ahead of her, clearly excited by something.

He began howling. "AOUUUUUUHHH!"

Scypha's breath came to her trembling from the cold, but, suppressing a smile, she joined in. "AOUUUUUUHHH!" she shouted.

She held back laughter as the wolf turned back again to gaze at her. "Let's get going!" she said. "We're late already, I think the solstice is today!"

Darko lowered his head, then bounded on through the snow.

"As soon as that sun goes down, I'll be fifteen winters old," Scypha murmured to herself, going after him.

Raising her shaking hand, she hastily marked on her forehead the symbol of the patron god of humanity. "Protect me, Vifafey," she murmured. "Don't abandon me to the cold and the beasts … no offense, Darko."

Swallowing hard, she trudged on through the snow behind the wolf.

Suddenly, a little brown shape fell through the air right in front of her nose. With a panicked chirp, it plunged into the snow at her feet.

Momentarily shocked, Scypha stopped walking and, with a stiff and freezing cold neck, looked down.

It was a tiny little bird, a chickadee. It was trapped in a finger's depth of bright, cold snow. It was shaking its head and wings, trying to free itself, but it was having trouble. Scypha slowly knelt down in front of it, gazing at it.

"What are you still doing here?" she murmured. "Did the winter beat you on your way south?"

The little bird gazed up at her with beady little eyes and chirped. A cold wind blew and stung Scypha's cheeks, but she smiled despite herself and slowly cupped her arms around the bird.

"Don't worry, little one," she said. "I've got you. I won't let winter have you … Or Darko."

She looked up and around, trying to spot the wolf, but he'd run off somewhere again. She looked back towards the bird. It began to flap its wings, throwing away some snowflakes that had gotten caught on them, and then suddenly, it jumped off the white snow and landed on her pinky finger.

It stood there, holding onto her with its little legs, shaking slightly and gazing at Scypha with tiny little black eyes. It chirped.

Scypha lifted her other hand, still trembling from the cold, and gently patted it on the head. It didn't even try to fly away.

"Do you want to come with us?" she asked. "We're going south, too."

The bird chirped. A strange thought crept into Scypha's mind—

—and suddenly, she was somewhere else.

She was … she was standing straight, in the middle of a clearing. Darko was a few paces in front of her, bristling his fur and growling at her. He was angry and … very frightened.

"What …?" she asked, turning around. "Where…?"

It was like she'd lost a few moments. Unnerved as she was, she recognized the clearing; it was just ahead of where she had been, but … she had no memory of getting up and walking there. Just an instant ago … she should have still been kneeling on the ground, with the little bird on her pinky finger.

But she felt strange – her hands felt strange. They weren't cold anymore at all. She looked down at them.

In an instant, she panicked wildly and fell backward onto the snow. Her trembling returned, and she breathed hard, stunned, with her eyes stuck to her hands.

They were covered with blood. The broken body of the little bird lay stuck to it amidst torn-apart feathers, all covered in crimson.

Severed from its body, the bird's cute little head rolled off her hands and fell into the snow.

Darko kept on growling and barking at Scypha, slowly backing away, sounding more and more afraid.

Scypha could barely breathe.

"What happened?" she gasped. She had no recollection of what had happened. "I didn't … Did I…? What did I do?"

But then, her whole body began to tingle and vibrate, and her lips curved into a wide smile. The cold of the snow faded away, and a rush of hot euphoria washed over her entire being. She felt herself shaking from head to toe, suddenly happier than she'd ever been. Her hands moved without instruction and gently caressed her cold cheeks.

"It's so warm…"