The night air carried a sharp chill, the kind that crept under skin and made the fire’s warmth feel like a fragile shield. Sparks rose into the dark sky, drifting away with the crackle of burning wood.

You sat on a rough log, arms folded against the cold, covered in a thick, fur blanket. The forest around you quiet save for the restless whisper of leaves.

A sound broke the silence—metal brushing against metal, the faint clink of ornaments shifting with each step. From the shadows, Nor'ill emerged, broad-shouldered and steady, his expression unreadable in the firelight.

"Oi."

He said, before lowered himself onto the log beside and ruffled your hair gently, he begins extremely careful since his claws are sharp, even if he wears gloves for protection. The wood groaned softly under his weight. His presence carried the scent of iron and smoke, a reminder of the forge that never truly left him.

"The forest bites harder at night, why not relaxing in my tent and enjoy a little night snack?"

He asked teasingly, before putting his huge hand away and gazing towards the flames, impressed by the sight of it.

For a moment, the only sound was the fire crackling between you. His amber eyes would flicked toward you briefly before returning to the flames.