Dragomir tells her she’d be welcome in the Edge, and she nods, though she’s not sure it means much. In some buried part of her heart she is grateful to him for the offer. It is kind of him, even if she doesn’t show such feelings on her face. “I was never meant for land,” she says instead, as if this explains it all. But it does explain a lot. It explains why she chose the Falls, why the Edge cannot quite tempt her. Though right now, none of the herds tempt her. They feel fickle and fleeting and she is loath to trust the Gods again so soon. Eventually, she will have to trust them. Eventually, she will need to make a life again for herself. But she was in rush.

The Yeti catches her attention as he lobs one of the birds into his mouth, chewing with rather disgusting noises, though she supposes those noises are indictors of pleasure to the Yeti. Not that she cares, because it sounds awful. And then, just because this is always how her luck goes, he begins coughing up bones and pounding on his chest and she is beyond thankful for the fact that she’s standing somewhat out of the group. That does not stop a few bits of bone (one with some spit covered meat still attached) from hitting her seal-gray skin and bouncing off.

A visible shudder runs through her body, but she doesn’t run away screaming. It’s tempting; oh, so tempting. But she manages to keep her feet planted where they are, and the quaking of her body to a minimum. Gross. She likes being hit by flying food debris even less than she likes being touched by any other living creature. But here she is, not dying because of it. The same way she didn’t die when Sheba plowed into her chest in a sort of hug. And she’d managed to stay there, letting the child take some comfort in the touch or whatever it is that others get out of touch. She doesn’t understand, but at least, she didn’t feel like the world was going to break open under her feet anymore when it happened.

But really, the flying food debris is just gross.

This time, he asks for a pillow. She’s tempted to go fetch that pile of seaweed and stick it in front of him as a pillow instead. But probably he’d eat her if she tried to fetch the seaweed from the pile of food in front of him. Not that she couldn’t just go get more seaweed, but if she’s thinking about this like someone else and not herself, they probably don’t want cold, slimy seaweed for a pillow. Syrena thinks it would be great, but Syrena is not the Yeti.

So she sets off trying to figure out what she can possibly find as a pillow. She’d have just brought him a rock if he hadn’t specified soft. But of course he wants soft. So she wanders, because she really has no good ideas. She wanders until she finds the Hearth Moss of the Steppe, with its’ fiery red-orange color that mimics the warmth it gives when eaten. Shame it doesn’t offer the same warmth when one sticks their head on it. Either way, it will make a great pillow, but she can’t just take back a pile of moss. She needs a way to carry it, and a way for it to stay together when the Yeti tries to use it.

So she keeps wandering toward the water, because it’s always where she goes. Also, she knows there are some nests there. She’s seen those loons that he apparently likes to eat so much nesting by the shores, their nests made from grass and moss already. So now she looks for an empty nest, and is thankfully rewarded in her search. She finds a large piece of drift wood and sticks it under the next, dragging the nest along with the wood.

On her way back, she stops to gather the hearth moss, stuffing the nest until it overflows, some of the orange moss getting left behind as she drags her makeshift pillow all the way back to the Yeti. She’s not the first to come back, and not the first to grab moss or a nest, though she seems to have put them together in her own way at least. But really, there were only so many soft things in the frozen north. And she’s not about to lie down and offer herself as a pillow.

She puts the pillow in front of the Yeti. “A soft pillow,” she says, before returning to her place far away from the Yeti. This time, she moves father still, because she is not in the mood to get hit with anymore flying food. Then she waits, hoping this is all over, and moreso, that maybe she’s done enough to claim that prize in his horns. She’s getting so tired of trying and failing.

OOC: Syrena makes a pillow out of a loon nest (made of grass and moss), stuffed with piles of Hearth Moss.