Spyrals is not a slave of rigid formality, but one whose dance is shaped by feeling rather than training, and whose service springs from love, not fear. In the White Bosk Camp, though abandoned, she serves with humility and presence, earning notice for the way she weaves grace into the simplest of tasks. She is, above all, a woman who has been many things, scribe, stake, treasure, burden, beloved once, abandoned ...but at this moment, kneeling in the dirt, she is simply kajira. And that, finally, is enough. Serving White Bosk Camp.