Camouflaged against the snow, Celandine made her way down the mountain. Not long ago, she had traversed the other side to find Deacon, and now it seemed she had to know what else laid East. The glen was somewhere, but she knew she couldn't find it alone. Moving had been hectic enough without counting every landmark, yet for some reason she wished she had. Maybe it was simply nostalgia, or greed. Would another band of wolves find the Magnolias? Even the thought of a pack taking up their old haunts proved to be too much to bear, so she set her mind to other things.
Focusing in on the cold, and watching her breath pour out in hot puffs of steam, the princess continued. Weaving through a dense forest of pine trees, she thanked the gods that they were bare. Had it been the middle of summer, she felt her journey would have been shrouded in darkness. Not one to be fearful, Celandine had to admit something about the place unnerved her. There was a silence so great that her ears were ringing. Quick to note that there was a severe lack of paw prints, she decided that not even prey animals found themselves wandering through the area all too often.
Cella tried to chalk it up to her imagination. She was reading into things, only to freak herself out. Unfortunately, her blood was already pumping. Terror coursed through her veins, as the snowy hairs on her neck rose. Something was out there, she knew it, and when it found a young princess all alone, she would be a goner.