Iglux̂ wonders whether she would have come so far so quickly had she known the ache she would face along her ribs. In the final stretch of her trek the cut begins to throb fiercely. She has kept it dry, yet her summer coat is too thin to bar all dirt from finding the wound.
This worries her. A cut to the torso allows for malcontent spirits to pass into the body. But it is not why she has come.
In the same forest where a woman of dawnbreak met that of saatsine, Iglux̂ slows. She sings timidly at first, then again with a bit more mettle.
