Jampa wasn't feeling particularly adventurous but she set her intentions on the hunt for the familiar, whatever that could mean. Hiking her way from where she had awoken through an archway chosen at random, then down along a corridor that became quickly frigid. As she made the effort, Jampa found that the sleep which had imbued her mind came away easily, and she found she did know some things - remembering names and faces, the way one might remember facets from a dream. Perhaps in finding someone familiar she could restore herself to her original bright, precocious condition.

An hour down the trail and her search had yet to yield any desired results; and being cognizant of the encroaching cold from the path around her - piles of white powder and solid water that held an ambience that was, frankly, quite pretty - Jampa held out hope that somewhere along the line she'd find her way to someone she knew, or to somewhere of importance.

The girl bulwarked herself against the worries which hid in the fringe of cold around herself. She took the time to investigate some piles of snow with a probing poke of her toes, holding in a squeak at the sensation of wet, cold, and melting which came from it. When she thought to taste an icicle though, things went a little awry - her tongue touched the surface and swiftly webbed against it; and for a few perilous seconds she thought she had been tricked.

Her hot breath plumed in bursts, and as quickly as the icicle had stuck against her tongue, she found herself free of it. Smacking her lips and trying her best, afterward, to warm her tongue and melt the layer of ice that had crystalized across it. It was numb! How very strange. Nobody could ever claim Jampa to be an erudite knower-of-things, especially now that she'd slept through the bulk of her physical maturation; she had some mental catching up to do.