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Summary
When Djeeta was in Wales last, the winters weren't this harsh; in fact, in her memory they seemed gentle and kind. Or perhaps it wasn't the winters themselves that she remembers that about, but the man she met in the snow, the one whose name she doesn't quite remember anymore.
Her memory seems to like to play tricks on her, though; there's definitely nothing gentle about the blizzard that's trapped her far from her fellow hunters, and surely nothing kind to be found in the frosty wildlands. (...Right?)