The world is nothing but darkness.
The colors that once danced across the night sky are gone, and with them the bridge to the spirit world. No hope of an afterlife, no rest, no peace. Only ice.. slumber, and time turning unheeded, a wheel with no beginning or end.

The cycle must begin anew.
Stars, void, a voice, blooming from the empty cosmos, it trembles through her bones and sets her mind aflame.
You will be a seed. You will save us. The cycle MUST begin anew. Awake my child, my daughter… my seed. Awake, Morwen… AWAKE! 

Her body jerks awake and she nearly pitches off the bed. Someone nearby yelps and there is a clatter of pots and pans crashing together, followed by a string of sharp, angry words.

Morwen…the girl thinks. That’s right… my name…  it’s Morwen. 

Morwen blinks in the dawn light that comes through the smoke hole and slowly sits up, the soreness of her body almost entirely gone.

The lodge is long, built of timber and earth with a shallow hearth at its center, coals still faintly glowing. Beside it a young woman rubs her hip with a wounded expression, torn between pain and delight as she stares at Morwen. The old healer is nowhere in sight. 

This woman too, has antlers, though smaller, less stately. They’re youthful, a little crooked, in an endearing way. Morwen can’t help but feel she strikes a comical figure as she hastily gathers the scattered cookware. A messy strand of auburn hair falls over her eyes, she brushes it back behind an ear, the rest is braided neatly down her back. 

Amber eyes look into hers and the girl says something that sounds bright and teasing. Morwen offers a hesitant smile in return.

Only then does she notice: her own hair has been combed. Braided. Someone cared for her. Warmth floods her chest. She opens her mouth to speak…

But the auburn-haired girl launches into an animated stream of words, with sweeping gestures and an almost musical cadence. Morwen hasn’t a clue what she’s saying, but the delight is infectious. She sits at the edge of the bed, perfectly content to talk to someone who can’t possibly understand her.

Her voice is soft and lilting, like she’s ever on the brink of laughter. Morwen finds she loves the sound of it. 

Curiosity blooms…effortless and childlike.Without thinking Morwen reaches toward one of the girl’s antlers. 

The young woman pauses mid sentence, tilts her head... Then laughs, warm and unbothered and leans closer to offer it, but as Morwens’ fingertips brush the smooth bone, shock runs through her body, she gasps and for the briefest heartbeat… she sees.

A young man; strong and steady.
Short, sturdy horns sweep upward from auburn locks.
He stands unyielding, sword in hand, between death and a terrified child.
He shouts for her to run. Frey, run!
Then faces the horror alone. 

Morwen jerks back with a gasp, hand flying to her chest as the vision snaps like a broken thread. The auburn-haired girl startles at her reaction, but then just blinks... and smiles.

And Morwen understands the shape and meaning of that smile.
More than that. She understands the words already spilling from the girl’s mouth.

“Sorry! Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to… are you all right?”

The language flows into Morwen’s mind as if it had always lived there.

Morwen stares. “I… I can understand you.”

The girl’s amber eyes go round. “You can speak? You couldn’t before, I thought…” She catches herself, straightens unconsciously. “I’m Frey.”

The name rings through Morwen’s bones with a weight she does not understand. She opens her mouth and the language comes without effort.

“I’m Morwen.”

Frey lets out a soft huff of relief.
“Morwen. Yes. That’s.. The last thing you said that night, before you… well, collapsed.”

Morwen can only stare at her fingers, still tingling where they touched the antler. The knowledge of the language sits in her head as naturally as memory. Not learned, but given. Passed like fire from wick to wick.

She looks back up. A million questions well up in her mind, but she decides to start at the beginning.

“Frey…What happened?”

Frey tilts her head, like it’s the strangest question. “You don’t remember? You saved me.”