Though she was only 14 now, she remembered the warmth of years before. Winters had been exceptionally cold in the two years since the Great War.
Nabooru wondered if she would once again find the valley floor dusted with snow. It was even worse now, between the winter and spring sun. To outsiders, Gerudo Valley was a paradise of abundant summer, but the women who called the valley home knew of the bitter cold of the night. Similar to ash left after a fire, the sky was colorless and offered little promise of warmth. With a sigh and a groan, she rolled onto her back and stared out the window. She awoke with a small scream, instinctively pulling her foot under the covers and searching for her weapons. Instead, in a snap, the frigid air assaulted her and found purchase inside her sanctuary. If not for one toe poking out from her fortress of warmth, young Nabooru could have remained sleeping in peace for several hours longer.
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