The cold breeze seemed to be a comfort to her. It's fingers no longer icy as it tore before at her cloak but she seems to sway with its fingers. She smiles slightly, remembering the times of good. Something inside tells her warning to take care, but she seems drawn to something. The forest seems to call to her, the tree in their shadows provide a comfort of hiding. Her gloved hand grips the cloak's latch at her neck as every once in a while the wind tries to pry it off of her. Her emerald green eyes glow faintly in the dark, the light of the moon shining on the path of downed grass, however, it looks as if none have traveled that path anymore. She stops at the base of the path, wondering what would lie ahead. In the distance she hears the wolves cry, but for some reason does not tremble as any human would. Does she feel for them? Do they even feel? Does her past allow her this calmness, or is she simply numb? Her smiles are momentary, her gait strong and steady into unknown territories, and her skills that keep her alive. She places her hand on the hilt of her father's sword as she continues to look down that trodden path. She smiles softly to herself and chuckles as she sees in her mind a small clearing. She knows that it is there, the moon shines its ray upon it. From such a cold light, she will find warmth. Removing her hand from the hilt, she sighs and begins her journey down the path.