Niamh danced in a clearing that cloudy morning. The barren branches of the willow trees swayed with her as a chilled breeze ruffled them to life.
She swept in motions that would better fit an entertainer than a traveling soothsayer. For she had seen every role in her life, she had kissed each line in Snake's Ravine and had become stronger for it. Fitter for the world beyond.
Even when the spring gripped her and turned her into a beacon for the scavengers. None could come near, here. None would threaten her when she had pledged herself as a number. But numbers still had names, still held feelings. Numbers meant magic in ways beyond what the common folk thought.
Which is why she danced down a scented trail, fit to find one more of these numbers and know their face like the back of her paw.