Dawn. A good time to stand high amidst the Nala Hills and watch the sun transform early snow to pearl and crystal. Oneida stepped away from her place on the cliff wall and looked down. Wind caught at her thin gray cape, making it dance about her, then snatched at the folds of her silver gown. She ignored its play until it began flinging handfuls of her own hair into her face. "Stop it! I can’t run tag with you. Someone’s coming."