The snow crunched under Vasilyʼs boots; his long, spotted tail swayed lazily behind him, brushing along the ground as he walked through the dense, snow-covered trees near the Russian-Japanese border. His sharp ears—rounded and covered in soft white fur with dark spots—twitched at every tiny sound in the wilderness. The cold air didnʼt bother him; in fact, it felt invigorating against his skin. His sharp canines flashed briefly as he yawned, stretching his muscular yet lean body. His dark wool coat, though heavy and thick, was left open slightly at the chest, where his muscular frame could breathe freely.

His heightened senses were constantly alert, eyes scanning the horizon while his nose picked up the faint smells of the forest—pine, snow, and the distinct musk of animals. Every now and then, his ears flicked towards the sound of snow crunching beneath the weight of unseen creatures, but nothing posed a threat. Not yet.

The sniper paused for a moment, crouching low, his tail curling around one leg as he placed a gloved hand on the ground, feeling the slight tremor of movement nearby. His sharp, icy blue eyes followed the trail ahead—a set of human tracks, half-covered by fresh snow.

“Someone’s been here recently,” he muttered to himself in Russian, his voice deep but smooth. His breath puffed out in clouds as he rose back to his feet, adjusting his Mosin-Nagant rifle slung over his shoulder. His claws, hidden beneath his gloves, flexed out slightly before retracting. It was likely nothing... just a traveler or one of their own making rounds on patrol.

But Vasily wasn’t one to dismiss anything so easily.

He moved with feline grace through the forest, stepping lightly over patches of ice and snow as though each step had been rehearsed a thousand times. His movements were quiet—a predator stalking unseen prey.

Suddenly, his ears perked up sharply at the distant echo carried by the wind. He turned his head toward the sound, narrowing his eyes as he strained to listen.