“what do you fear, lady?' he asked. 'a cage,' she said.”; any

[Ygritte]

BETTER BEWARE, I GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE

When she and Kreios had first carved out their bit of the new world, it swelled with tall trees and colors of the deepest lush greens. Sylva was an ancient place blanketed by mist and solitude. It's secrets were embodied in it's residents long before they could realize how the fertile soils had embedded in the cracks of their fracture souls. The Reckoning had thrust them all into the deep dark of angered deities to expose their vulnerabilities and raw needs.

The salmon tinted mare had found her former kingdom with ease. Sylva had called to her soul and so she was powerless to answer. As a blush tinted dove, Ygritte followed the coast where mist and sea joined as one. From the edge of the warm Pampas when the trees grew tall and proud, Ygritte find a place to drift to the ground. A horse forms where the small dove had found a soft place to settle, rich amber with orange-pink limbs and smooth mane.

Her left eye, her only eye, watches for a tender moment with soft breathes filtering the clean air. Others inhabited her now when she had expected the land to be dormant but there is a rise of pride in hope in her chest that others had picked up the torch of the nearly forgotten territory. Begonias of delicate pink grow from the right socket, a reminder to the day she was blinded, but they are a beautiful scar she wears like a crown.

One legs draws up and over to pull her forward in a casual walk with ears forward and the ghost of a smile on her lips. She would travel deeper into her homeland before alerting the other Sylvians of her presence. Ygritte was old now but she had been blessed with the eternal beauty of young marehood to keep her youthful...and alive. Some time passes as she walks the familliar deer trails with the chatter of birdsong to guide her. It had been far too long since she had left Sylva to seek her lost king but enough time has since passed that Ygritte had given up hope.

A low call, melodious but firm, clips off the ceaseless calls of birds. Ygritte is a polite creature and thus knows she should make her presence known rather than be found in a pile of soft pine needles. There would not be much time before someone approached her with questions and concern. Ygritte was surely a long forgotten queen and she did not intend to divulge this information unless asked. Ygritte could be a keeper of the forest, a storyteller for when the world was broken and Sylva was born.

It had been years since she had felt the bloom of hope in her heart.

Ygritte.