A/N: almost got away without a note, but then I remembered that I had to mention the music. Another Defiance track, the whole soundtrack is actually really good for getting a feel of the story/era. Inception's really good for getting a feel for how Star was during the time, especially Old Souls. And when I say that, yes I do mean the whole soundtrack. Dream is Collapsing included. (Actually, that's going to be the next chapter. Mwahaha.)

In any case, digression aside, this chapter is derived from the track Winter in the Defiance soundtrack. Almost everything about it was spawned from that song. No music cues, it's just the feel of it. Makes for good background music.

Winter came in with a chill that was unnatural for the southern country. Star's warning to brace for such a thing meant that they were more prepared than they would have been, and the steady supply of game they managed to find meant that they were rarely lacking in food or warm blankets. The cold wind brought with it snow, a phenomenon almost unheard of down in the plains, but the children loved it and it made the Royalist forces halt most of their efforts to hunt the rebel soldiers down. If rumor was to be believed, the snow had hit the Royalist food supply exceptionally hard, bogging down wagon routes, breaking storehouse roofs, chasing away the game and destroying most of the winter crops. They had over five inches on the ground at this point, but the northern folk had known how to get around that and sled construction had been an excellent way to keep the troops busy.

It seemed luck was finally on their side, but T'reth had his doubts that luck was involved very much, if at all.

Planning battle strategies and sending envoys to the farming communities in search of recruits had been their main focus for the winter months, and despite the lack of fighting those endeavors had kept them quite busy. Things were looking up as support for the movement began to pick up speed once more, and they hadn't had more than a rumble of discontent from the men since the mutiny right at the end of summer led by Liman—who, as it turned out, had been paid off by the Royalists to spy on them and cause trouble.

The revelation of T'reth's heritage had caused plenty of trouble on its own, that was for certain. Several of his officers had walked out on him for it, but a lot of them hadn't, despite his worries that they would. He had been attacked by would-be assassins twice in the month afterward; the first had been brutally taken care of by Ackala, his ever-faithful bodyguard. The second incident had been a bit more public, and Star had taken the opportunity to once again defend him and voice her continued support of his leadership. Since then, things had almost gone back to normal. If he discounted the heightened suspicions and wary looks he seemed to be getting a lot of now…

Star's feathers had bleached completely white when the snow had come. Coupled with her already pale skin, barely colored clothes and white hair, the Goddess was like a wraith among the snow covered fields. The snow had seemed to bring a change in her attitude as well, and it seemed T'reth would notice her on the ground and near the camp more often than he used to. Rarely within the camp when it wasn't necessary, but watching from the washed-out fields beyond, or simply standing out there and staring off at some distant point he probably wouldn't see even if it was within his view.

He had just returned with an envoy from one of the furthest communities they were recruiting from when he noticed her standing out there again, alone in the pristinely white field as always. He excused himself from his group after a moment of debate and dared to set out toward the Goddess, telling Ackala to stay in the camp when he tried to follow. His friend gave him a warning look and an admonition to be careful, but left it at that. The larger man wasn't very trusting of things he didn't understand, but apparently Star's actions had convinced him that she was at least not a threat to T'reth's health. T'reth thought that was a good thing.

He halted a few steps away from the immortal, careful to be very respectful of her personal space, not sure what it was he wanted to say now that he was out here. Star barely twitched to acknowledge him, and yet he knew that he had been acknowledged and that she was waiting for him to speak, seeing as he had been the one to initiate contact.

"Thank you." Was what he finally worked up the gumption to say.

The immortal's wings twitched minutely. "You are welcome."

He nodded, even though she still wasn't looking at him, and cast a glance around at the empty field, searching for something else to say. He didn't really know why he felt the urge to make idle conversation with the Goddess—he supposed it came down to simple curiosity and a sense of pride that balked at the thought of walking away after that pitifully short exchange. Still, what could he talk about with her other than something to do with the war? Would she even harbor a conversation about anything else?

Star shifted her wings again, lifting her gaze to the sky and the thin veil of clouds that hovered there, almost as white as the fields below.

"You do not like clouds, do you T'reth?" she murmured, he would have thought to herself, except that it was clearly framed as a question addressed to him.

"I… don't, really, unless they're being useful." He admitted.

"It rarely ever rained in Havenfield unless you were sick, didn't it."

T'reth frowned as he thought back to his childhood. "I never made that connection, but… it did seem to rain every time I was ill, yes."

The immortal nodded. "The clouds have been fighting me. They do not enjoy denying you your birthright."

She turned, slowly and calmly, to meet his confused gaze, until he remembered the one question he always forgot to ask when he spoke to her.

Sun Clan. They were bedtime stories and campfire legends; that was what he had been told when he asked around about the term. Tales told to children of an ancient race of people that had been born out of sunlight and had a range of mystical abilities tied to that foundation. This was probably the first time she'd referred to him by name without adding on that unfamiliar title. He was trying to frame his question properly when she saved him from having to do so.

"They are more than legends, T'reth. They are a heritage and a people lost to time—your heritage and people. You hold in you the unlocked potential of a full-blood member." She cocked her head slightly. "And yet you retain a mere fraction of true blood. You stand almost entirely unrealized, and yet the clouds contest my authority. Why would that be?"

He couldn't tell if she was asking an idle question or accusing him of interfering with her attempts to assist them, and that made him hesitate to answer—if she even wanted him to in the first place. He wasn't sure if the question was even rhetorical or not. By Lykotus, he was such a mess when he tried to talk to her. Where did his diplomacy always run off to when she was standing in front of him, staring him down with the full weight of her timeless existence?

"I wasn't aware that I could do that, ma'am. I don't mean to cause you trouble. I would stop… if I knew how."

The Goddess only stared at him for a long moment. "Your longing for sunlight is subconscious and woven deep into your psyche. It would take much training before you could control it with any ease. We both have more pressing matters to attend to." She seemed to hesitate. "At least for the time being." She added quietly.

T'reth fought down the almost giddy grin that wanted to spread over his face, and chose not to comment. She seemed reluctant as it was. He didn't want to push even that small offer too far.

"Thank you."

She merely blinked at him and turned away to ghost across the powdery snow, as quiet as a breath of air. She didn't get far before the urge to question her on a different matter became too powerful to resist.

"I think it was less than a week before the first snowfall when Gree told me how much he missed northern winters." He mentioned almost casually, and the immortal paused, wings half spread and hand lifted in the process of summoning a wind, glancing back over her shoulder. He peered at her curiously. "He specified five inches as the best for sledding and playing in. You wouldn't have happened to overhear that, would you?"

Instead of answering she turned back to her takeoff, and with the rush of a cold wind on his face she was gone as silently as a snowy owl. T'reth fruitlessly searched the sky for a moment before heading back to camp, smiling a tiny bit as he wondered when the immortal's eyes had begun to form pupils and irises, and how long she planned to cling to the pretense that she didn't care about them even a little bit when every power of perception he had pointed to the fact that she did.