Northstar Vale macaroni art

Throws Tryphon at you! Hope you're OK with a boy thats totally out of the loop, because I am too.

It was snowing in the vale.

The flurries had been mostly slush at first, which was perhaps why the presence of flakes did not register in the boy's mind at first. But now, week later, there was a layer of frost on every inch of everything. The grass looked like it was dusted with tiny knives; beautiful, harmless, but sharp and strange. Tryphon spent most of his first few days of adaptation studying the surroundings — watching the ground, perusing the paths, keeping a watchful eye out for danger but inevitably, being overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.

So when the snow really began in earnest, Tryphon couldn't help but feel elated, and distracted. He did not know of the recent tumult between Saena and Warbone, not for a few hours at least. Tryphon was busy staring skyward while wandering on the fringe of the pack's current occupied space, feeling the bits of ice landing upon his snout or tasting flecks upon his tongue.

There was something familiar about the cold. The wet. The way the bits melted, tasted. Oddly, he felt most at peace in this place, while the snow was falling.

Then there was a presence that broke his concentration: a beast he had probably met, but not someone he knew well. The stranger (more or less) came upon Tryphon and murmured something which made his ears turn, and his face to furrow with some confusion.

Had any luck? Queried the male, who inadvertently herded Tryphon back towards the collective. Tryphon sniffed softly (his nose was running more than usual), and softly parried, With?