The queen sat by her lonesome at the edge of the forest, gazing out over the expanse of the meadow and the river than ran through it. She was lost in thought- deeply so- and did not seem to want to be brought out of her own head. Her caribou laid down next to her, and she found her hands stroking his soft gray fur. To be made queen so young was a burden. She prayed to whatever god roamed the meadow below for aid to be sent her way.