Slocha pushed back the cowl of her school robe just far enough to feel the winter chill. It was early morning and, unsurprisingly for a Sunday, she was one of only a handful of students wandering the grounds. The air still held a mist that had coated the lawn in a carpet of white the night before. Rearranging the thick woolen blanket beneath her Slocha tried occupying her thoughts as she stared sullenly at the plumes of steam the came in short bursts from her petulant mouth. Her temper could make a forest fire seem like the dull flicker of lit match and try as she might to control it her mood was slowly getting the better of her. Asilora was late, again. Knowing of her sister’s incurable lethargy did not mean it was any less of an inconvenience.

With a murmured curse she began to search her bag for the leather bound notebook that would give her some peace. Drawing often helped to quell her irritation and being aware of how little control she had over her emotions Slocha had learned years ago to always have materials close at hand, just in case. There weren’t many subjects to choose from, for although the worst conditions had gone months past the days were still bitter. Not that she minded but most of the other students seemed to avoid the chilly weather. And so she sat, and waited.