Silverlight Terrace i.ix : who was breaking away from the pack

This time, when he left the mountain, he was alone. There was nobody to escort, no dangers to guard against. The mountain was at peace and the rest of the valley seemed to be just as lethargic; there was snow in the higher reaches but he wasn't going higher today, he was going lower — descending in to the fog of the foothills and beyond, where the mist collected like a great white sheet across the terrace. As he moved through it, the stagnant air barely stirred, it was ethereal — unnerving to the leviathan, but it did not prevent him from roaming.

The fog withheld the sights and smells of the world, but through it came a drifting shape that he almost missed. Revui paused and watched, listened, sucked in some chilled air in the hopes that the taste of it might lend some clues — but there was nothing. So he drifted closer and closer, a hungry shark on the hunt, lurking in the mist with hungry eyes. Whatever he'd found wasn't as sharply angled as a deer (not that Revui would've expected something large like that in the middle of nowhere, and alone), and was larger than a fox, but all he could smell was salt of all things.

He turned his head and huffed in to the mist, clearing his nose and trying again. When he turned back, the shape he's spotted was gone again — and this perplexed him. Revui wasn't accustomed to this setting and he didn't understand the intricate nature of the weather; so he lurched after the shape, and as he came upon the path through the snow that indicated where the stranger had been he saw her, drifting much like himself, but with her head down.