Volnes, 25 Lumnea 5118

Maple leaves, to ward against demons and offer protection. Delphinuris flowers for peace in the face of this adversity of ice. Blaestonberry blossoms, the best I could think of to represent the boy; they mean innocence and childhood, and I want to believe this is all just an innocent mishap.

Just like grandmother taught me.

I spent a day trying to find delphinuris nearby. Some that may have survived the cold, or been tended safe in someone's garden. It felt important that they come from Vaalor lands. That they'd struggled for survival in a ceaseless unnatural winter the same as I see the peoples of the Fortress do every day.

The blaestonberry I had to travel across the frozen lake to find, but the sudden change at the lake's edge - from the depths of frozen winter to the warm breezes of early summer as I caught the towers of the Sapphire City in the distance was a good reminder of just how unnatural this problem is. And my uselessness in the face of it.  I don't know when I became so altruistic. It's exhausting.

I sat in King's Court, warm near the bonfire, and weaved them all into a garland while the usual evening gathering buzzed and chatted around me. If anyone noticed, or cared to ask, what I was doing I'm not sure I would have answered truthfully A century of lectures, and watching Grandmother treated as a 'delightful Ardenai oddity' at summer garden parties and winter balls, have instilled in me a resounding reminder of the Nalfein opinion on Nonsense. Thinking of it brought a blush to my cheeks, even though no one around had any idea what I was doing. Or would likely care if they did.

Usually I linger in the Court, waiting until the brothers have left for the evening and everyone has dispersed to their own private corners. I was the first to leave tonight, dashing out with a hurried mumble about courage. Lady Lynaera's thoughts followed me, bidding me to be well. Of course she noticed. Nalfein always notice.

As I sat trembling in the snow near Imaera's shrine I tried to remember how long it had been since I'd spoken to the Spirits for anything other than calling them for spell work. Why did I go out to the orchard shrine? I still struggle with my opinion of the Arkati, but Imaera is the patron of the sylvankind and I at least remember enough to know that if I'm asking the lesser spirits for a boon I would be remiss not to include an Arkati in the deal. If I'm being foolish I might as well be as foolish as I possible can.

I don't know if it will do any good. Actually, I'm quite positive that it won't. But I had to do something. There are whispers of dwindling food stocks. The cold digs into your bones in a way none of us are use to. The Legion patrols relentlessly. I watch Anarquendi grow ever more distracted and tired and I'm certain he's wearing himself ragged trying to find the child first. I'm just as worried at what desperation and fear might drive the Vaalor toward, and yet all I can do is knit mittens and gather herbs nice and safe within sight of the gates.

I had to do something.