As you stepped out of your tent this morning, the breeze felt frigid on the back of your neck.

Last night, you had cut your hair off in a fit of rage, having been dragged back and forth between old and awful memories.

Although Gale wasn't the first to notice, he was most certainly the first to point it out.

"Your hair, it's.. different," he stated, simply standing in front of you as he ran his hands through your hair. "Do you want to maybe, explain? I know your hair's important to you."