Snow fell from the sky, bringing with it a chill that seeped into Vallerina's skin and snaked along her bones. The tips of her fingers had started to turn blue, and her body was already half covered from the position she hid in behind a looming pine tree with bated breath. She'd been there for what felt like hours at her mother's behest, her legs going numb in the freezing weather of the Illyrian mountain range. Just as she thought it was safe to come out, a woman's blood curdling scream split the midnight air, the words being repeated barely distinguishable. "YOU CAN'T HAVE HER; I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HER!"
The scream could be heard coming from a small cottage surrounded on all sides by towering pine trees, the place Vallerina's mother had hidden her far from the prying eyes and curious gazes of war-band denizens and warlords. The scream issued again, this time it was one of pain rather than of defiance, and Vallerina could feel tears welling in her eyes and freezing as they fell onto the snow at her feet.
Suddenly, the night went silent, the only sound to be heard were birds nesting in the branches above her, desperately huddling for warmth. A man barged out of the cottage, barely distinguishable in his dark attire from the night sky framing him, but his body contained an unreasonable bulk and was rather imposing, and blood could clearly be seen flowing down one of his gloved hands. "Come out, come out wherever you are, little girl. I know what you are!" The man said with a soft lilt to his voice, a grin plastered across his face as if he were proud of the atrocity he'd just committed.
His eyes scanned the forest edge, slowly leading in her direction before landing on her spot in the snow-covered underbrush. "Found you!" His grin grew wider as he launched himself into a sprint, fist raised and ready to connect directly with Vallerina's face.
Vallerina woke with a start, breath coming in heavy pants and back covered with a thin sheen of sweat, causing her shirt to stick to her uncomfortably. She rolled over on her tiny scrap of fabric filled with half frozen hay, and a groan slipped from her lips as she glimpsed the thin, watery light peeking in through the flap of her poorly constructed tent.
The faint hustle and bustle of camp life could already be heard from outside, and she knew she had an hour at most of free time before the head laundress would expect her.
With a lack of energy rivalling that of a sloth, a creature she had never seen this far up north, Vallerina pushed her measly blanket aside and got to her feet, light brown waves of hair cascading down around her as she did so and head brushing the low pitched ceiling of the tent. Stationed at the slightly ajar entrance sat a pair of worn leather boots that were falling apart at the seams and just a hair too small for her.
After quickly getting dressed in clothes she'd only managed to get because of her position as a laundress, she headed out the entrance flap and made her way toward the line of frost covered trees as quickly as possible. When the forest finally enveloped her, she let out a sigh of relief. Since the war had ended, many of the males had become restless and agitated towards the females, snapping and expecting the nearest female to start grovelling without any provocation directed at them. She preferred to get as far from the camp as possible, finding more comforts in animals and nature than her own kind.
Vallerina moved through the forest with a graceful and purposeful gait, enjoying the peaceful sounds of the forest awakening around her. Out there, there was no misogyny, no work to be done for unappreciative warlords or head laundresses that worked her too hard, no Illyrians that looked at her with resentment because of her mysterious appearance 7 years ago.
Then she finally arrived at her usual place of peace, a clearing that could be crossed in no more than 20 strides from her long, lean legs, and at its centre stood a tall, hollow oak tree. An oddity among the pine forest, and clearly the product of a squirrel that had wondered much further than normal to bury its food.
Vallerina walked over to the oak tree and reached inside, fetching out an image of herself and her mother smiling together on her 9th birthday that had been magically impressed onto a piece of parchment. The oak tree also contained a sketchbook and some charcoal, and a pair of dancing flats that she reached in for. Dancing was one of the few times Vallerina could truly show emotion when around the Illyrians, one of the few times she could stop squashing all that pain and anger she felt at the world so deep down and just… feel it, express it.
When she glanced at the ground however, she realised disparagingly that the clearing was too covered with snow to properly dance, and that something needed to be done about it. With ears perked and eyes scanning, she looked for the presence of any other Illyrians, and then when consoled that no one else was around, she flared her wings and let a blast of warm, shadow-kissed wind shoot across the meadow and slowly melt away the snow, leaving nothing but billowing clouds of steam in its wake and freeing all the beautiful greenery trapped underneath.
And then she danced.
