Wishing to write a sibling to her previous brief poem, Summer Thunderstorm, Ristiinnä penned this poem in her new poetry journal. She meant for it to be positive, but colored by her own history it came out quite grim.

The air like pure clear ice, so cold and crisp,
    with every breath a cloud of crystal mist,
        a silent snowscape by pale moonlight kissed.

Lusseriel was in the inn of the city, appreciating of the fire and warmth despite the number of drunken humans around.

For once she didn't plan to go spend the night outside the city. She was sitting at a table, nearest one of the window, the coolest area in the room.

Not long after midnight, Suojelija grew anxious, shaking all over and nuzzling against Ristiinnä in their tiny garret, waking her. The air was still, thick, and hot, but a few moments later, rain was pounding down against the cobbles of the market, and bright flashes came in through the open window, followed by pounding thunder.

Every corner of my heart loved you

In a field of fields you were the largest field
In a field of [stars] you were the most [stars]

(with apologies to Anis Mojgani)

The young girl sat under her tree, parchment on her lap, Cat taking a nap next to her. Syllea’s own eyes were shut as she gripped the pen in her hand. The breeze blew across her, and her long brown hair flowed behind her. It was times like these where the teenager looked like a princess, instead of the orphaned girl she truly was; her hair flowed like a chocolate river, her skin glistened in the sunlight, her small smile shining with love and kindness. The girl opened her bright, emerald green eyes and looked around.