Northstar Vale Pretty lights on our tree

When the snow began to fall again Tryphon watched it, but felt a nagging sensation in the back of his mind at the same time. He eventually forgot about the weather, shook what small particles of ice there were out of his pelt, and set out on yet another search for the leader he was charged to protect. Over the course of a few hours he found Saena and kept tabs on her; he made himself scarce when others approached, but inevitably resumed his careful guardianship of the first, as was his duty.

When the snowfall became much thicker, and the wind began to howl through the mountains, Tryphon was once again caught in the snare of a memory. He watched the dancing flakes instead of Saena. He flicked his tongue out to catch them, and even playfully nipped in to the wind when it blew against his cheeks. There was something about the snow that made him feel content. A sense of cheer that had evaporated from his spirit a lifetime ago — but then he heard the commotion beyond his fantasy, and snapped back to the vale.

It was the voice of Dagfinn calling out to Saena. Alerted by the motion of the dark wolf through the gray of the flurries (and feeling a vague sense of panic, which might've been related to his confusing moment of nostalgia or just the danger Saena was in), Tryphon dashed after the other wolf and followed him. When he saw him digging, Tryphon threw himself in beside Dagfinn to help — terrified that he'd failed his one purpose.