In the crook of an elder tree

Alarra settled gently in the crook of an old elder tree. Above her fell fat lazy snowflakes, coating her tracks in an ethereal carpet of crystals. She sighed, wishing silently to herself that life was as peaceful as her surroundings. Inside raged a storm, fury and sorrow etched the edges of her heart. She was to be sold, as the thirteenth child of a poor farmer she was as good as livestock to her father. A silent tear trailed down her pale cheek. Even now they are accepting bids. "How do I accept this?" She murmered to the glittering woods surrounding her. Slowly her head fell into her scrunched up knees. But what can I do? I have nothing, I am nothing.