emptiness, but a held breath. The ancient pines of the Hisui wilds bow under the weight of new snow, their boughs creaking like old bones. Your own breath plumes in the frigid air, a pale mist that hangs for a moment before the greedy cold devours it. You have been tracking the scent of iron and fear for some time, a faint thread in the sharp, pine-clean world.

you move through the drifts without a sound, the deep white fur on your limbs limbs making you just another shifting shadow in the storm’s aftermath. And then you see it.

piercing yellow eyes dart you down, a swift shadow following you. Like a tiger noticing its prey. It’s yet to reveal itself, seeming cautious, yet awaiting to strike.