While she loved her darling little boy, it was no excuse to give him an easy life.

The dark child trails along behind her, the last slopes of the mountain receding in their wake as she journeys for the first time from the safety of their home and out into the world. The younger she shows him the trails, she figures, the better they will remain in his mind, and with a life as she had led, it seemed wise to spend time teaching him all that she could. There was no promise for her in the morrow, a lesson she had learned young, that same shard of glass driving her to fill her boy’s head with memories of her beauty and wisdom, nostalgic thoughts of her love.

Rikyn, as she has come to call him, is clever and strong, for which she is immensely proud of; he keeps pace with her and his eyes watch the world with wonder, and for being only a couple of weeks old, he is tall and hardy, already showing signs that he will be as fierce a northman as his father. It makes her proud to look upon him as he trots up beside her, the gentle brush of his shoulder against her own frame comforting in ways she has not felt since fate stole her innocence from her when she was but a child herself.

He hasn’t said anything yet, which she supposes is normal. He’s barely old enough to be taking out of the mountains and she is sure he’s not stupid by the obvious way he seems to be studying everything around them; now that they’re outside of familiar terrain and moving out into the verdant fields of Helovia proper, its almost humorous the way his little eyes bulge in his face and how his neck never stops twisting to allow him to spy on the newest bird or bloom he has not yet seen.

Her armor is back against her skin, gleaming and freshly cleaned in the afternoon sun, and she is comforted by its embrace and the presence of her amulets; she is rarely confronted with any adversary while on her walks, but a primal sense to defend her new treasure burns within her, pressing her to hold fast to any and all means to keep him safe and to eat the face off of whatever might threaten him.

"We just crossed the Frozen Arch and out of the Frostbreath Steppe," she says to her son, not really sure how much of this will stick with him but finding great solace and joy in sharing words with the boy none the less; he should know these sort of things, either way, and the earlier the lesson the better it will be remembered, or so she hopes, "that wood over to the left leads to the Hidden Falls, the nearest herd to our own."

Rikyn looks to her as if to inquire if they are going there, to which she shakes her head no; a soft laugh breaks from her lips and she peers down at her child happily before returning to her words. "We’re going just past it, to the Thistle Meadow. It is my favorite place in all of Helovia aside from the mountains."

Increasing her pace to a trot, she listens to the steady sound of his small hooves in the earth as they walk, pointing out areas where she had met people of importance or done things she was proud of as they passed them, such as the looming, misty forest of World’s Edge where she had been born and met his Aunt Psyche. It all seemed so far away now, even when only a season ago the memories had been raw and open, weeping freely in the warm oxygen; perhaps it was the boy beside her, or that she had left the last part of that childhood behind her when she had made him with Ulrik. Perhaps it was simply that she did not care as much anymore that her home had been taken, because she had found a new one so much more worthy of her admiration than that dragon riddled grove had ever been.

They arrived to the meadow in the early morning, the woman having chosen the first light of dawn as their hour of departure to allow them sufficient time to rest before journeying home. The journey was evident in the low hanging head of the babe as he huddles close to her side when she finally draws to a halt beneath her favorite trees, the soft, tinkling song of the brook nearby and the delightful music of birds sounding out over head. Humming softly to herself as Rikyn helps himself to a late breakfast, she busies herself with a patch of clover at her hooves, savoring each emerald bite.

@[Snö]