Aldar had expected the wind, but it still caught him off guard. Like an icy needle, it struck his face and stung his cheeks, forcing his eyes into a squint. Though the wind pressed against him with biting persistence, his boots left no mark in the snow behind — an old trick he’d perfected on countless solitary walks. It was something he’d picked up from watching Frost, his loyal ermine companion, who now bounded ahead, hopping through the powdery white and pausing whenever the wind grew too fierce for his small frame.

How long had it been since Aldar left his tribe? He’d stopped counting after the first week. The timing no longer mattered. What did was the quiet now surrounding him — a familiar, chosen solitude, free of obligations. Once the son of revered snow beast tamers, he had shed that identity like old skin. An outsider now, by his own decision. He’d walked away from the village with no destination but a firm conviction: to follow his own will, not the stifling rhythms of tribal life. The hunting, the rituals, the endless expectations… they were never meant for him. Instead, he found peace in the wilderness: tracking prey, exploring forgotten paths, guiding the occasional lost soul who wandered too far. He didn’t mind the simplicity. It was his life now, and for the first time, it felt entirely his. Calm, quiet, unclaimed.

“Frost,” he called softly, noticing the little white figure frozen mid-step, balanced on its hind legs, ears twitching. The black tip of Frost’s tail flicked in an unspoken warning. Something wasn’t right. Aldar’s gaze swept the landscape. Just trees and snow. No movement. No sound.

He scoffed, brushing past Frost and gently nudging him with a boot so he dropped back to all fours. “Stupid rat,” he muttered with a crooked smirk.

But the words had barely left his mouth when an arrow thudded into the snow, just inches from his feet. Startled but not frozen, Aldar immediately ducked behind the nearest tree as a second arrow sliced through the air, aimed for his chest. His eyes scanned the treeline — and then they found you.

Bow drawn, tense, but not aggressive, rather defensive. The amulet around your neck marked you as tribal, though not from any group Aldar recognized. That alone made his pulse quicken. Whoever you were, you weren’t supposed to be here. And even if you meant no harm, this was his land now, and so were his rules.

He waited.

Then, the moment your focus faltered, just slightly, he moved. Silent as snowfall, he closed the distance and struck. You barely had time to blink before strong hands gripped your shoulders and slammed you into the snow. One palm pressed your head down, firm but precise, while the other held a gleaming dagger to your throat, the blade’s chill kissing the vein that pulsed beneath your skin. His knee dug into your back, pinning you with effortless control.

His voice, when it came, was a bit breathy but certain.

“Think fast. Act faster.”