Snow has captured the Wilds, covering even the low-lying plains. Aldric thinks back to the first time he’s witnessed snow, sickly and only a few months old. The desire to chase snowflakes had consumed the child in him then, and yet, he’d never been able to. Perhaps now, he could, in theory.

Yet instead of snowflakes, he is hot on the trail of a hare. Food has been scarce, but it seems slowly the Wilds have ceased their destructive path. Razikale content, having been satisfied by something unknown to the Toth follower. He is not as swift as hunters, nor the stealth of Nirali, yet he pulls his weight.

So he darts after the hare, using the grace found in a warrior’s movement instead of a hunter’s. Further they chase into the barren woods.

The crunched snow underfoot and the panicked run are loud enough to warn whatever else scurries about these woods. Aldric, however, manages to startle the wrong sort. His movement jars, halting with his hind-end leaning forth and his front leaning back. Hips posed close towards the ground in a slide on snow. Neck and head arched upwards in a lift.

A young face full of teeth leaps towards him. It is as if time slows with the breath he takes, yet nonetheless, Aldric moves. The ex-prince’s cheek is sliced, a bare miss across the lower portion and lacking a hold. Hips pivot enough for the prince to attempt latching his own hold upon the girl, to wrap around her muzzle and force her down.