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maybe a Caan ?

Cetseni has lingered among the lanzadoii, keeping herself distant, finding respite in solace where she can, for there is no other muradoii to commiserate with, just the chieftain's broken son and the moon-girl made servant who were close in age.

Her mind weighs heavily on it all. Tso'khun is gone, all that remained by the time the errant hawk-girl arrived was the bloodstained grass where he met his end. Yakone was gone too, swallowed by the winter winds, vanishing into the vastness of this different land. She thought she might follow her sister's trail, but by the time she'd come back home, all that once was had gone cold as the black sea ice. Cetseni felt the tendrils of taboo feelings crawling down her back, longing, guilt, she saw to it that those feelings stayed right where they were; in her head, and even there, they still felt blasphemous.

And mother, oh mother, of course she was gone, and what had her daughters come to learn from her? That nothing and nobody could be trusted, not even the blood that bore you, though perhaps that was the goal all along. It left her bitter, still naive enough to have hoped for more.

It was her own fault Yakone was gone, this she felt strongly. Were she not so caught up in her dreams and where they led, she could've been there when the hunt went wrong. She could've seen her sister leave with her brother in tow. She could've gone too.

But she resisted the urge to follow cold trails. Something else kept her here, a feeling of something yet unfinished, one she could not shake.

A snow-spun waif lingered around the Saastine. Caan was not C'ede', the white raven boy whom nursed alongside Sivaak's own children. No warmth of recognition would be granted to the girl, only the cold glower of his icy gaze. Caan did not immediately act against the lonesome creature. He bided his time, casting glances over his shoulder throughout the passing days to keep tabs on the girl.

She neither approached, nor left. So it was up to the Sun Clan to make contact. Fabulous.

The waif lurked in the distance once more. There was little cover around the Winter Scar lake, just open tundra, water, and caribou. So Caan made no attempts to hide approach. A direct one, with the place in which she stood openly conveyed as his destination. The rain boy didn't rush over, nor was his stride too casual. He made an effort to look as imposing as he could, hiding the limp the best he could.

Who are you, and why do you follow? He was the chieftain's son. This stranger would tell him her purpose.