Write a story

Her home lay behind her. And the aurora ahead. It would be cooler in the north, as it was in the far south. She could wear a sweater again. Be invisible again. Her body unscrutinized.

She leaned down the slope into the first valley of the first range of mountains. She took her first step towards solitude.

Three valleys later, a plain spread before her. She saw a river, so many trees, and... smoke.

She crept to the edge of the clearing, peered towards the village. Perhaps she wasn't the most original, the cleverest, but perhaps also she would feel at home with people as original and clever as herself. She watched, as sweatered figures exited longhouses, laughed, and went about their lives at ease.

Their bodies were soft in the sweaters, shapeless, but colorful. Their hair all different lengths.

She had been noticed. Faces turned at the call. No more hiding in the woods. She pulled her sweater back on to cover her cold sweat, and stepped into the clearing.

The crowd approached, wary but smiling. Tones of welcome. Gestures of curiousity.

Was the smoke that obvious? Was she well meaning? Alone?

The women enveloped her, led her to the hearth. Rest yourself here they said. You are welcome they said.

She sat beside an elder, and a youth, and a woman her age. "Are we safe here?" She asked.

"Yes, here we are safe, here we are invisible, able to be exactly who we are."