All Glory to the Icewarden!
Grey had always loathed that Fae. The creature seemed to have turned up from no where, found wandering alone on the ice one night, with no explanation save for a crudely scrawled note tied to her ankle. She had had no voice, no magic or power, and yet Lothak had doted over this one, Our Terrible Lady had done everything in her power to ensure that this pathetic, nameless little mute had thrived, had become more.
And then what? As far as Grey could tell the creature had just been left to wander the clan camp as she pleased, allowed (and this was what truly sickened Grey) to drift from the very edges of the camp to the inner circle, the place where only those with trust and power may tread. Oh gods only know what kind of treacherous ideas those outlanders could have been planting in her tiny skull, for The Priestess had seen the little wretch loitering around with the worst of them; Conray - that crafty old magician, Boneshaker - who’s lust for power was well known by the clan, Riddle.
So, it came of a surprise when Grey’s usual look of scorn was replaced by a confused kind of shock, when the dumb little creature passed her by this time. The wretch had been changed once more, and rather than soft wing beats, her coming was heralded by the click-clack of claws on ice, and a knowing glance was thrown The Priestess’ way.
"They say her name is Halphia."
It was Aether who had spoken, the little Skydancer who was looking more savage than princess by the day, and had slunk up beside Grey without her seeing.
Halphia, is it? The Priestess would keep a far more careful eye on this one from now on.