Months passed, as they always seemed to between the two of them. They truly were creatures of undying life who could go eons without seeing one another, and have the happy happenstance to have their destinies cross and the time that had once distanced them seemed narrower than the tip of a feather. Months were milliseconds to them, however, Lana was careful to utilize her time wisely. She also was aware of how patience was of most virtue in gaining the trust of the inhabitants she soon found herself immersed in. It was a stark contrast to the bustling life they had left not long ago in a thriving town. Here, the weather wasn't the only bleak aspect to the land. The villagers were comprised mainly of women either swollen with child, or women already trailed by a number of tiny children at their feet. Men were scarce to find at this time of year, and there was an intimacy between the women that was somehow unique to them. It was understandable, as from what Lana understood, what was necessary to maintain survival caused them to have to rely more heavily upon one another than a much more populated, and less rugged place. The fact that she was a woman, or what they perceived to be one, allowed her to be more easily accepted into their social sphere. Slowly she gained their trust and immersed herself in their culture. It was obvious to them, however, that she was foreign. Whether or not they suspected her to be more than this, she wasn't aware, but it appeared that if any there were any wild whispering going on, it was few and far between.
The cold suited her. It touched her, but often she had to feign her shivers on a particularly cold night to make sure she did not disturb their suspicions. She was able to learn to make fine clothing from the most basic, and rare materials about. In secret thanks to them for their welcoming spirit, she imbued their clothing with protection and long lasting health.
It was apparent to Lana that this small, removed group of people all carried the characteristics of oddities. Their body language and solitude demonstrated that they had once been considered outcasts. This, she realized, was why she was so easily accepted into their small world.
As days grew long, arduous, and repetitive, Lana realized that she was yearning for his company. She had needed to give herself space to breathe, but she knew it could never last for long. The months had seemed to go by quickly while she was immersed in her discovery of this tiny culture, but watching the sun rise and set so many times, and being caught in the snow, the snow that reminded her of her home, her heart began to ache, and time became a nuisance.
The day had begun as normally as any other. The women awoke to prepare breakfast, but there was a particular liveliness among them. The men were to return. In all of the hustle and bustle, Lana wondered if it were time for her own to return....
The sun arose above a small, pathetic bunch of trees that poked from the icy ground giving a depth of life to her surroundings. Lana sat with her knees to her chest wrapped in her arms, her chin rested on her forearm, and contemplated the excitement of her friends. Her fingertips caressed the small pale shard at her neck, and instantly a warm pain gripped her chest. An aching. The women were laughing behind her at a distance.
"Ghanon...." she sighed, her frustration mounting with her realized need of him, "Please be near."
She pressed the small shard to her breast.
