First, there was darkness, then cold, then white.

Now, Diana is sprawled across blood-stained snow. The sky overhead is blue and cloudless, and the biting chill of northern winter fills the air. There is no star overhead, merely a shapeless brightness, as if looking at the Sun through closed eyes.

Not far away, a stand of snow-covered pines occupies a short, wide hill. A thin ribbon of smoke rises above the treetops, and a faint amber glow emanates from just inside the shade of the forest.

...holy shit she's alive?

What the fuck?  How the fuck?

Okay.  First things first.  Where there's life, there's hope.  She was meant to distract Darkseid while the others prepared, being the one ringslinger who habitually slung multiple colors, and at that she thinks she succeeded admirably; hopefully, the rest of the League will be able to repel him or even kill him.  (...Then again, Batman.  She gets why he is how he is, but...some people can't be saved, because no matter the choices you offer, they will not take them.  The embodiment of Tyranny?  Most certainly won't.)  She'll need to tend to her wounds first, however; even to attempt to call home from...wherever she is right now...is somewhat beyond her, let alone a blind jump.  So that's her first priority.  Rolling over and carefully extracting the broken arrows from her back.

There's just enough hope to patch the cruel wounds left behind, when she stretches for it.

...Next order of business: standing up.  That's a toughie.  She does have her staff, at least, but she's a bit too dazed to go flying just yet, so the order of the day is...walking to where that fire is, instead of trying to build a house by herself.

There is hope in this wintry place, but it is direly scarce. Three embers nearby, and one, a little brighter than the others, further away. Still, it's enough to garner a modicum of ring-charge.

The healing goes as well as expected. As she walks, a leather-dressed figure steps out of the pine's shade and scans the open plain in Diana's general direction. Fear and compassion dominate their heart. Worry for the safety of others.

She stops.  She opens her mouth - thinks better of it.

She speaks in a different way.

:I intend no harm.:

The figure turns directly towards Diana, and while the fear in their heart shrinks it doesn't go away. They rush towards her, and once they are within earshot, shout out to her. The words are alien, but their meaning is apparent all the same. "That may be, but are you harmed yourself?"

The voice is deep and masculine, the figure tall and bulky. Their face is mostly obscured under a scarf and hat, but around their eyes their complexion is revealed to be orange, verging on red.

Translation magic that isn't hers.  Talking works, then.  Cool, good.  "Not anymore, I think.  Just...exhausted from a very long day, and worrying about whether my allies will win a fight I can't rejoin as worn as I presently am."

"Mm," the figure nods sympathetically. "Please, come inside and rest, then. I just finished gathering some wood and was about to prepare lunch." They continue their approach as they speak. "Are you cold? I can share my warmth with you, if you need it to make it to the cabin."

"Mm.  My species would normally be cold in weather like this, but even the bit where I was a pincushion - well, my outfit's as weatherproof as I could make it.  As everythingproof as I could make it, for that matter.  Clearly not proof enough, but the weather isn't going to kill me."

They nod again. The fear is still there, but again reduced, and hope rises in its fall. Then he will lead her through the snow, up the hill, between the trees, and into a log cabin nestled amidst the trees.

Inside, there is a foreroom where the man begins to remove several layers of clothing, revealing simple linen underclothes beneath, as well as long black hair billowing up his head not unlike smoke. Aside from that he cuts an almost entirely human figure, though.

To the left there's a staircase leading up a floor, and to the right a staircase leading down into a cellar. Ahead, the foreroom opens wider into a central living space, with a hearth on the right wall, a table with four chairs to the left of the middle, a wooden door on the left side, and a glass door leading into a greenhouse on the center of the far wall, which is flanked on the right side by a cabinet and on the left by a set of drawers. There's an elderly human woman visible through the glass door, tending to the plants of the greenhouse.

After removing his outer layers, the man walks up to the glass and opens it a crack. "Mother! We have a new arrival!"

And when Diana is safe(ish)ly inside, she shifts her outfit to her 'publicity wear', rather than her combat armor - this mostly involves subspacing the armor segments, in a separate partition that collapses into normal space when any unapproved things happen in her vicinity.  Her underlayer is a traditional Lantern tron-line suit, with the Indigo emblem worn above her heart.  (Well, not quite directly above.  No sense giving snipers good targets.)

...She finds herself drawn to a chair that's positioned with a very good view of the hearth; her limited-but-well-honed ability to reach beyond the 'mundane' nature of Light, as channeled through a Ring, seems to feel - an even more strongly held desire for people to be safe and happy, emanating from the crackling flames.  So she sits, and quietly murmurs, "Hello there, spirit of the hearth of the world.  I'm not going to hurt you; if you're the spirit of this place I may well owe you for my rescue.  That last-second transit should not have worked at all, and yet, here I am.  ...If it was not miraculous chance, I might like to know if you know anything I do not, about my arrival."

There is a sense of recognition, acceptance, and other nuances emanating from the hearth as Diana speaks, subtle but determinedly present.

A moment later, the man pulls out another chair for the old woman to sit in, after which she addresses the newcomer. "You're a perceptive one. Unfortunately, the hearth is...limited in its ability to communicate, most of the time. My son," she turns a hand over to gesture towards the man, "can commune with it, somewhat, and at the end of Wishing Night it can be spoken to more directly, but otherwise it's unlikely that you will get a response."

At around this moment, footsteps bound down the upper staircase, and another woman, much younger than first, maybe around the same age as Diana, enters the room, beaming with excitement. "A new arrival? Where are you from? What were you running from?"

The older woman gives the younger a gentle scolding look, and the younger calms down slightly. "Uh, if it's alright to ask. I understand if it might have been traumatic."

"I wasn't running, I was dodging.  Though given the evidence, it appears I wasn't quite successful.

"I think I did pretty well, though, at my goal, and - I was not expected to be contributing further after disengaging, especially since I now no longer have a functioning secondary Ring with which to push back against Darkseid's Anti-Life beams.  That's not to say that I don't want to still help, but - I succeeded at my part of the plan, which means we'll win."

The younger woman opens her mouth to respond, but the older gives her another look and she closes it again and puts on an apologetic smile. "Bran, can you get started with lunch?" the older woman asks, prompting the man to nod and move towards the hearth, gathering some cookware, before heading through the wooden door opposite the hearth, which opens to reveal a pantry. Turning to Diana, the older woman asks, "Would you like something to eat?"

"I might well benefit from some, even if I'm not strictly that hungry yet.

"...And while I have a bit of a strategically-cultivated aversion to the concept of experiencing cowardice - Yellows, not even once - I'm not actually offended by anything you said. Especially since you don't normally get superheroes, judging by the shape of this place."