In the north, a star falls from the sky. There is no great crater, no conflagration. She impacts the hard packed snow lightly on hooves, and begins her trek. She could fly the rest of the way, but prefers to feel the firmness of nature beneath her. By now it has become her tradition: she has made the journey countless times before and always walked. There is value in tradition and Sol, understanding this better than most, changes only when she must. Beside, she loves the swath of thaw left behind her when she travels. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at the melted snow slipping away and evaporating with every step she takes, revealing the now softened earth beneath.
A faint red aurora brightens the sloping horizon, framing the outstretched arm of the milky way. The vast white field is silent, save for the hum of her flames. It was the sound the sun would make if it was here on Earth with us instead of alone out there in the solar system. With no air it cannot sing, but Sol can sing for it. Little tufts of white snow orbit her as she walks: they are a constant nuisance. Her gravity gathers them to her, and they spin in elliptical descending orbits until they strike her and burn up with a hiss. She is used to it by now, but she doesn't appreciate the constant reminder.
As she crests a hill a candle becomes visible in the distance: a hot spring. It was not there the last time she visited; no doubt some song had worked very hard to unearth it. A handful of tiny trees, very much out of place, hung about the hot spring. The seeds, Sol imagines, must have been carried across the snow from far to the south. Trees would not grow naturally in the tundra, but ayr'kin are not easily dissuaded by such bans. The sight of those three impossible trees, standing stoically against the flat and permanently frozen vista, was something truly inspiring. Could there have been magic involved in growing them here? "So much has happened while I was gone." Sol whispers to herself.
From the impossible hot spring, a candle becomes visible in the distance: a silhouette of pure flames atop the hill crest, dancing against the star-filled night sky. The northerns who are gathered there for some relief against the cold take pause, lift their heads from the water, and wonder what could be coming. As they do it begins to roll down the hill, or rather, to trot. This flame is clearly a Samanayr.

( Hey this is my first post in RP here, if I do anything wrong just tell me OK! For this RP I'd prefer is people use their favorite Northern or hybrid Sams, but if you can think of a cool reason why your less warmly dressed Sam might be freezing his tail off up there -> plus plus to you! )