Emberflame Ridge Burning incandescently

Upon spotting the shadow, Tryphon half expected it to diffuse like the soft breaths he had been exhaling; but it did not. In fact, it became more solid. It took on a form the longer he looked, and when he caught sight of a set of eyes, his natural instinct to pull his gaze away was overwhelming. He had always been the meek sibling of his family - the pudgy omega, dwarfed by one sister's size, the other's majesty, and his beloved brother's exuberance. His body may  have matured (and his mind, still fractured, barely recalled his true family) but Tryphon could not resist his nature. He lowered his head a few inches - perhaps not enough for the shadow to see - and then turned away entirely, deferring to the darkness that watched him as if dismissing an old friend.

He thought of retreating in to the willows. Having spent a few days here, he knew that the chance of living in seclusion through the winter was slim. The forest was not frequented by prey, who found the mountainous terrain too harsh and the snow too deep, the cliffs too narrow and dangerous. To retreat now might spell doom for him - but the boy wasn't keen on confronting this shadow either. So he sank down to his haunches, then his belly, and lay prone upon the snow, watching the figure as if they had all the power. To Tryphon, they did.