She kept herself busy, throwing herself at her duties to prepare Whisperwood for the winter as her tribe happily celebrated the kindling of the Hearthfire. Riverblossom had tried talking to her, but she was in no mood for her grandmother’s reassurances. She put one scroll away and unfurled another, allowing her eyes to drift across the flowing, exaggerated script, taking comfort in the familiar stories they told. They were her only comfort on these cold nights of the twilight of the seasons while she sat there all alon—