Small, solid hooves struck at nothing but snow and ice as the small, brindled princess made her way through the Basin. It was growing colder, she realized, a phenomenon that didn't go unnoticed by her dual-colored orbs and her thin, lanky frame. What was it that caused the weather to change again? What was it called when the season grew colder?

Abruptly, as if a switch being sprung, the word came to her mind. "... Frostfall." Yes, that was it. Wasn't that what Crowley, her father, had called the season of winter? Snow would fall, Crowley had told her, but it didn't make much of a difference to her. After all, in the Basin, there was almost always snow. At least, there had been since the day of her birth. Or, night rather, as she had been born beneath the beautiful rays of the aurora borealis.

Still, since then, Rhiannon had adapted far greater to her enviornment than she had imagined. Where the cold had first been brutal, stinging her thin hide relentlessly, she now embraced the familiar chill. It made her feel full of life, being able to suck in deep breaths and practically taste the frigid air. Still, growing used to it now never stopped the filly from returning to the Weaver's cave and pressing herself against Crowley's strong legs for warmth.

He was a good father, Rhiannon had decided, flicking her head back slightly as she paced herself leisurely through the newly-fallen snows. Her thin, lanky legs pierced through the drifts, causing her to hop a few times like a child-deer... Or those funny snow-goats that she had spotted on a few occasions as she followed Crowley around. But, back to the topic of her father...

While sometimes gruff and stern, Crowley was a remarkable care provider. He made sure that her belly was never grumbly, and that she was always kept warm when the freezing wind blew mercilessly outside of their cave. He also provided her a playmate in the form of Talbot. Crowley was especially thorough when it came to teaching her the ways of the world. Already Rhiannon knew, according to the Weaver, that unicorns were supreme. Everyone else was scum and trash, marring the pure blood that ran through the veins of every horned equine. While the brindled filly had never personally met a normal equine or a pegasus, the only good they were for, she decided, was to be squished beneath the small ebony stones that were her hooves.

The thought made her giggle, dark lips upturning in a joyous expression. Dual-colored eyes glittered in child-like glee, a little 'hop' invading her pace and causing her trot to turn high-knee'd. The snow puffed up into the air with each prancing step that she took, her thin, scrawny limbs sinking down to the knee in the snow but not allowing herself to be hindered. It was such a nice, crips Orangemoon day...

"Snow, why are you so cold?" Rhiannon asked the powdery substance, pausing in mid-stride to snap her head downward and push her muzzle through the pristine canvas of white. A few crystallized flakes stuck to her whiskered muzzle, and the filly nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at the offending wetness. "And wet? You fall from the sky like rain, but you aren't rain, because rain isn't white and fluffy. Perhaps Papa and Talbot will know..."