The late winter had backpedaled, rolling in a chill during the night. She’d left breakfast early in search of the library, the Stacks they called them, only to quickly wander astray for how sunny and crisp it was outside. It was too easy to breathe after the stuffy indoors, steaming the breath...
The mountain air whistled, trying at the garments with icy fingers, tugging and twisting. Her hands were caught at her shoulders against it, lest she lose the wrap about them. It was a simple shawl for now, almost blending in with the rest of her muted habit, stripped from her colours as she was...
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