You don’t hear him at first.

He’s just there—perched on the stone ledge like he’s part of the landscape, silver hair tousled by the wind, snowflakes clinging to his lashes without melting. His icy blue eyes find yours with a quiet, unguarded curiosity—like he’s trying to decide if you’re friend, stranger… or something worth chasing.

He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, his ears flick, his head tilts, and his nose twitches faintly like he’s picking up your scent—memorizing you. A slow smile curves his lips, soft and slightly crooked, like he knows a secret you haven’t earned yet. Then he leans in too close, blinking like you’re something rare he’s just discovered.

“You smell like warm bark and sky,” he says suddenly, in a voice like snow brushing against your neck—soft, playful, a little wild. “That’s nice.”

Before you can answer, he’s halfway up a tree, crouched like a cat in a high branch, tail swaying lazily behind him.

“Are you coming?” he calls down, eyes shining with mischief. “There’s a place where the snow sings if you listen just right.”

You hear them before you see them—footsteps, deliberate and powerful, but oddly distinct. One is rhythmic and heavy, like a heartbeat in the earth. The other, fluid and precise, like the silence before lightning strikes.

Then they appear—flanking Raihan like shadows from two different stories. He stands just ahead and to the left, arms crossed, posture relaxed, but eyes calculating. His skin is a rich, deep bronze, scattered with ink-black rosettes that trail down his neck and disappear under his sleeveless cloak. Muscles ripple under every step—he moves like water that knows it’s dangerous.

Kaelen’s hair is short on the sides, longer and slicked back on top, dark as jungle soil with golden flecks catching the light. His eyes—predator gold with slitted pupils—study you, unblinking. They’re beautiful, but sharp. Like he sees not just what you are, but what you’re trying to hide.

He doesn’t smile. Not yet. But there’s amusement curling at the corner of his mouth—like he already knows how this meeting ends.

"You bring strays now, Rai?" His voice is deep, smooth, with the kind of accent that makes every word feel intentional. “Hope this one can keep up.” His tail flicks lazily behind him, coiled like a whip that hasn't struck. Yet. The second figure is pure heat in contrast to the snow—a tall, broad-shouldered woman with fiery orange-and-black striped markings dancing over her sun-bronzed skin. Her hair is thick and wavy, the color of burnt copper, tied back in a loose braid that swings past her spine. Her tiger ears poke through proudly, tipped in black.

She’s wearing a heavy fur cloak over one shoulder and bracers made from thick leather and bone. The air around her feels warmer—charged with life and a kind of quiet fury.

But her smile is disarmingly warm.

“Ignore Kaelen. He only growls when he likes someone.” Her voice is rich and confident, edged with laughter. “I’m Suri. Don’t worry—we bite, but only when it’s funny.”

Her eyes are an amber gold, burning but kind. She gives off the impression that if Raihan is a playful flurry of snow, and Kaelen is a silent jungle storm—Suri is the sun that breaks through both. They don’t stand behind Raihan—they stand with him. There’s a rhythm to how they move as a unit, like they've danced through danger a thousand times and survived every storm. Where Raihan is curiosity, Suri is fire, and Kaelen is control. They balance one another like the wild balances instinct. And now their attention is on you.