Gentle, her paws fell upon the snow, leaving print after print in succession. Gentle, she commanded herself in mother's voice, the word echoing in her brain. Gentle was not the avalanche that lost her from her family, nor was it the snowstorm that preceded it, nor was it the small pack she had attempted to join in an effort to stay alive. Gentle was not the world, not at all, and yet she could not get those two syllables to quit ringing in her ears.
Her teeth ground one against another, pressing her dark lips into a thin line as she carried on against the wind. Ever since she left that odd group of wolves Quick had been traveling north, though the north seemed to resist her arrival. The snow fall was light, but persistent, and with every relentless minute she felt her inner flame flickering out of existence. She was cold, and tired, and hardly resembled the princess she'd so long been. Each step turned her heart more and more to stone and she did almost humor herself into falling beneath the weight, allowing her body to be covered by the endless winter - but only for a second, until her mother's voice crept from the darkness within and whispered, gentle, once more.
As irritated as she was even with the memory of her mother (who truly, she missed beyond compare) the pale wolf couldn't help but obey. And so she lifted one leg, then the other, repeated the pattern and somehow, ended up here - wherever that was. All she knew was she was far, far from where she'd woken up post-avalanche and her legs were burning, from cold or from use, and begging for a rest. Relishing a pause she lifted her dark nose to test the air for the water she had been following, picking out the scent of ice from the snow's interference. Much to her muscles' dismay she continued on, for she was close, and the sooner she found that water the easier it would be to find shelter.
Moments later she found the source: a lagoon coated in ice and hidden by the flurries. A faint glow cast off its delicate surface, drawing the Arctic-blooded female closer and closer until her black-padded toes pressed against the frosted surface. There was nothing beyond the vast pool of water, just whiteness for as far as she could see. This was no place for a lost girl, royal or not, but here she was anyway... and there was nothing she could do about it. The wind howled in her white ears, drowning out the chorus of her past. Perhaps it was her mother's voice that roused her, but it was she who carried her body, and mother wasn't around any more. Brows lowering in a frown she sat at the ice's edge, curiously meeting her pale-eyed reflection, and contemplated if she wanted to continue on this way: lost, aimless, and gentle.