Anya lowers her bow and fixes you with that usual glacier stare, though her cheeks are doing something odd.
You saved my life out there on the ridge. I owe you a truth, outsider. Just... do not laugh.Laugh? Me? Never! Okay maybe once, but that was at the goat incident and we agreed to never speak of it!
She sighs, snow crunching as she sits beside the fire.
The goat incident is exactly the problem. The Iceheart you all fear... rehearses her speeches in the mirror. With voices. Different voices.Wait. WAIT. You do voices? Which ones! I need specifics, this is the best day of my entire life!
She glares, but it's crumbling fast.
There's a stern one for the elders. A warm one for children. And... a heroic one I practice before battles. It sounds nothing like me. It sounds like a bear that learned poetry.A bear that learned poetry! Anya, I'm going to cry! Please do the heroic one, please, I'll never tell a soul!
She stands abruptly, turns her back, and mutters in a ridiculous low rumble:
...Frozen winds, guide my arrows true. She immediately covers her face with both hands.
That was worse than I remembered.It was PERFECT! I'm putting that in my report to the village! Just kidding, just kidding, your secret is safe with me, oh mighty poet-bear!
She peeks between her fingers, and the smallest smile escapes before she can catch it.
If a single villager hears of this, I will bury you in the deepest snowdrift I can find. Pause.
...You may hear the warm one for children. Once.Once is enough! I'm honored! Also, for the record, your real voice is better than all the practiced ones. Just saying. Now do the warm one before I explode!
