AW but Morwenna

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plumes of white carressed her, the rushing current rowdy even in the presence of the sleeping woman. the woman stirs, the ache in her body returning as her heavy eyes are pried open.
yusra went to sleep on the hide of an elk slain ages ago within the warmth of the palace halls. now she wakes half buried in snow, barely able to feel even the tips of her paws.

perhaps she was no longer needed. she expected a day like this would come. she'd hoped a more dignified leave, like tasting the food of the royals for poison — not to be dumped and left to rot.
but this land was unfamiliar even to her, she who'd run thousands of errands to and from the palace. she staggers to all four feet, still yet to shake the clumps of snow from her back, numb from the cold she'd been left to sit under for only god knows how long. but the wearied woman insists on stumbling her way back home — wherever that may be now.

SKILL Ranger 1/5

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morwenna had not meant to stop. she had walked the riverbank like a woman scorned by time, her thoughts the only company she kept—until the glint of pale fur against frost caught her eye. not deer. not prey. a woman.
she stood above the banks, crown lifted, plumes of her breath ghosting before her face. the figure below moved with the groggy tremble of one displaced—no direction, no surety in her limbs. it was not the ragged look of a rogue. no, this was something gentler. carved of finer things. morwenna's brows furrowed. there was something familiar in the lines of the girl’s shoulders, in the half-tucked way her ears held themselves. like a painting unfinished, or a memory from before the ruin.
are you lost? morwenna called down, voice wrapped in wind and regal certainty. then, quieter, more to herself, her eyes narrowed, studying the woman’s face: …or have i known you before?
snowflakes kissed the earth between them, melting in the tension, in the recognition not yet spoken aloud. she descended the incline with the grace of a matron and the weight of a queen. you wear the shape of someone i once knew. she paused. a palace girl, weren’t you? tell me your name. her gaze did not waver. i will know if it’s a lie.

the rushing waters fade in and out from her hearing, her eyes still so heavy and eager to close once again — perhaps for good. it was only when a voice beckoned her that the woman stopped to turn, snapping her out of her frostbite trance.

and even through yusra's wearied gaze, she could recognize the woman with the white crown — the woman with the black veil that obscures her visage to all except those who could stand close to her.
she sits on the cliffside, recognizing yusra if only vaguely. an honor, were they still within the palace. she was no longer a palace-girl, and her girlhood long since taken from her by time and by lovers whose names she's long forgotten. and yet, half-devoured by winter's fury, the woman shakily bows before her lady, the black queen morwenna.

my lady. her voice comes hoarser than she'd anticipated, her white throat bobbing as she swallows her shame. my name is yusra, i.. i was one of your ladies-in-wait. just one of many. yusra's sigh comes through trembling breath. my apologies that you must see me like this.