Phoenix Maplewood Tristan and Iseult

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Reek's movement through the maplewood was a strange and awkward shuffle which consisted of taking four to five labored steps, before stopping mid-stride to bury his face in the cold snow. This cyclical act seemed to have no end— at least, not until he picked up the faintest scent of something useable. However, each time Reek tried, his efforts were to no avail. Each time, he came up empty handed and empty nostriled.

A quiet had set into the maplewood.  It was an overwhelming hush brought on by the cold. All save for the winter wind had died away in it's maddening silence. He felt the quiet's full weight upon his back as he walked as if it were his burden alone to carry. Like a soldier, forged by the chill of winter, he carried on through his own prison of trees.

A soft bark in the distance tore his attention away from his work. He pulled his head from the snow and craned his neck to get a good look at it's source. A stark contrast with the snow around her, Reek hardly had to squint to discern her features. She walked his way and soon was nearly upon him; he stopped his shuffling and waited. "Care to join me?" he asked as soon as she got close enough to hear his raspy mumbles; the cold had simply sapped his voice away.