Fresh snow crunched under Teidra's hooves as she moved over the tundra, heading up a hill where a special flower was said to grow. It was called the Yyndris which, in the old language of her people, roughly translated to "blood in the snow".
It was called that because of its dark red petals that stood out stark against the white of snow, making it look like blood splatters from afar, especially when they grew in little clumps--and especially since it bore sharp, prickly thorns. A little ironic, considering the plant was used to heal--and heal it did, for it was a hearty plant with some strange qualities. It grew in the snow and thrived in winter, and died during the thaw. Still, it favored sunny hills, though Teidra knew there would be a lot of digging involved. After the recent snow, any flowers would be buried.
And with the way those dark approaching clouds looked, they would be buried even deeper soon.
Clutching her thick cloak to her body, Teidra pushed onward against the wind that had begun to pick up. The storm was going to be a big one, no doubt, but she had to find the flowers fast, and she wanted to kick herself for putting her assignment off for so long. She had had a week to do it! A week! But instead, she had procrastinated until she'd realized those clouds meant bad news, and that if she waited any longer, she would have missed her window at least until the thaw.
And then it might be too late, at least until next winter.
The snow began to come down harder as Teidra reached the hill's top, but she ignored it, shaking her head and flicking her ears to keep the snow off of her. Crouching down, she began to dig.
Matra had said she should look on this hill, but so far, no luck. With a grimace, Teidra tried another spot, cursing her stupidity, and then--
"Ow!"
Her hands found the thorns before she found the flower and she popped her torn finger in her mouth with a glower down at the snow. But there it was, the little frozen flower, and, moving more carefully, she started to dig around it so she could uproot it instead of pluck it.
By the time she'd gotten it up by the roots, the snow was coming down in earnest, a white wall she couldn't see through, the wind pulling at her cloak and threatening to grow stronger. The storm had come on faster than she'd estimated.
And now, she was stuck.
