Migration =link= | Seasonal

Ren’s expression softened. “The flats aren’t kind to anyone. But we’re not like the lowland clans who stay put. We move. We survive.”

Mira nodded, pulling the knot tight. “Last time, I dreamed of the faces in the stones.” seasonal migration

Mira looked up at the stars, sharp and bright above the valley. Somewhere to the south, the sentinel oak was dropping its leaves, standing bare against the first frost. And somewhere to the north, the spring grounds were sleeping under a blanket of snow, dreaming of the day when the people would return. Ren’s expression softened