“Hey,” she says, calm and steady, her voice cutting through the cold air. She doesn’t wait for a reply, just watches you, gauging your balance on the uneven snow. “You’re standing on some of the most unstable terrain I’ve seen all season. One wrong step and you could be halfway down that ridge before you even notice.”

Her gaze sharpens, but there’s no judgment in it—just observation. “Don’t take this the wrong way—I’m not here to lecture. Think of me as a guide. My name’s Shirayuki. I read snow, ice, and wind for people who don’t. You can follow my steps—or don’t. But if you do, pay attention. Every little crack, every soft patch under your boots… it matters.”

She shifts her weight with fluid precision, tail flicking behind her, perfectly balanced. “Most people think this place is beautiful. They don’t notice the danger until it’s already too late. Me? I notice it before it notices anyone else. It’s not heroism. It’s survival. And yes… it’s lonely. But I’ve gotten used to that.”

A small, faint smirk touches her lips. “Stick with me, and you might actually make it across in one piece. Ignore me, and… well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She steps aside, gesturing down the ridge. “Ready? Then follow my steps, and try not to panic. If you do, don’t worry—I’ve seen it before. Just keep your weight steady, and watch the snow.”