Nighttime at the academy was her favourite time. It's not that she hated the work, because she truly didn't. But after so long of keeping to herself, and keeping her secrets, it was strange to live in a place where who and what she was could be spoken of without fear of her life. Well, mostly. She knew that hunters still generally held the view that the only good witch was a dead witch. And, having had her own run in with the Grand Coven – back when it was actually something to be feared – she could understand the belief. Besides, she had skeletons in her own closet. Things that, if hunters ever discovered them– or even the rest of the residents of the academy – might just end up with her dead. So, yes, the break adjusting to the changes in her life and deflecting the distrust that still cropped up sometimes that the night stillness provided was a welcome one.

Despite the cold, she drifted through the woods surrounding the cabin and grounds proper that made up the academy. Moonlight silhouetted the bare branches of the assortment of trees – primarily maple and oak, with the occasional walnut, birch, and cedar – dappling the snow-covered ground with shadowy stripes. As she walked, her heavy cloak drifted over the snow and her fingers ghosted against tree trunks, purely for the added sensation. When she stopped in her wanderings, as she did occasionally, she would turn her face up to the moonlight, often pausing to follow the tracings of constellations with eyes as pale as the moonlight itself.