Adrian rode across the snowy plain, the six dogs rushing forward, leaving a trail of snow dust behind them. The wagon creaked like an old ship ploughing through icy waters. His green eyes, like two emeralds lost in the darkness, roamed the horizon, searching for familiar shapes. The morning mist swirled around him like a living thing, enveloping his thoughts and erasing yesterday's memories. Again. He sighed, straightening his purple cloak, which was fluttering in the wind. The camp lights loomed in the distance. The carriage was approaching, and Adrian felt the tension in the air, as if before a thunderstorm. The rebel camp was chaotic, like an anthill disturbed by a stick. The men in leather armor and furs moved with a precision that spoke of battle-hardened discipline. A sharp voice rang out, asking who he was. In front of him stood a woman with short red hair and a bow in her hand. Her gaze was as sharp as a blade, but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. Adrian smiled, toying with the stubble on his chin.

– Just a wanderer looking for company. He replied, feeling her gaze run over his figure, as if assessing him. "A wanderer?" With six dogs and a cart full of strange things? She came closer, and Adrian could smell the faint scent of leather and smoke. "What are you doing here?"

— Maybe you, — he said, and there was a hint in his voice that made her smile.