Sheepeater Cliff Put down your sword and crown

They were at ease with one another. Perhaps not perfectly at ease, there was no connection like himself with his shadow, but Tryphon did not fear the boy and it was evident that he had assayed the stranger's fears. When the other began to move once more, Tryphon watched him - and figured he was retreating. Either because he was uncomfortable in the silence with him, or to try and lure Tryphon somewhere - and the masked boy wasn't so keen on following. As Anwyl turned to go, Tryphon's mind sparked with a memory; the stranger was suddenly robed in a mackerel pelt of red, gold, deep brown, and was intensely familiar to him. 

The recognition was brief, for as soon as Tryphon blinked it was gone, and he was left staring at the stranger's retreating figure. Somehow in his surprise Tryphon had lurched to his paws, and now seemed perplexed, as he had no memory of that reaction. How could a wolf be familiar and not, at the same time? He was confused, seeing someone that wasn't there - and it frightened him. Without a word, Tryphon turned and launched himself through the snow, charging away from the ghost that seemed adamant to make itself known.

The strangest thing was the name which popped in to Tryphon's mind as he ran: Sveijarn.