You are the night-time fear
This is also new.Not the snow, though he has another of those distinct sensations that he did not awake to the same season in which he fell, but it doesn't matter. Or perhaps he did—his only memory of when the Voice woke him is snow, mountains, debris, rubble.
(How deep did she have to dig?)
There are mountains that wear snow year round, and who knows how long it took for him to guide the dead back to life? Perhaps it was instant, perhaps it took years. All he knows is that it was the Festival of Lights when they emerged.
So Deepfrost is no surprise. Aamu enjoys winter. It is pretty to look at, and the cold ceased to bother (or threaten) him long ago—with some exceptions, of course. He enjoys pulling the air into whatever passes as Ascended lungs, letting it warm up, exhaling it as a cloud of white smoke.
The afternoon sunlight is long and slanting, the sky cold and darkening. For all intents and purposes it is evening already, and where Aamu stands shadow has already fallen. He is not keen on taking chances. Not now.
His jumbled thoughts finish their circuit, skirting around the disturbing, ruined Spire looming in the background, and return to the sapling in front of him. He can't swear it wasn't there before, but it's there now, and it seems to be through natural means. A few others have come to watch it as well, but none have approached. Perhaps they are wary; perhaps it's the lone Ascended standing there and not touching it which gives them pause.
He doesn't know, and doesn't ask. Tattered and windblown he stands in front of the little firling, watching it with contemplation, blinking just a little too infrequently to be wholly comfortable to look at.
Aamu is discovering the Hollowed Grounds firling! Anyone is welcome to join. <3
You are the morning when it's clear
AAMU
