Blacktail Deer Plateau from the steeples in the church yard

remaining vague about his status/not mentioning anything rank-related

The snow that fell was a true sight to behold, comforting him whilst the feeling of bounding through the growing mounds felt natural; the weather spoke to him, telling tales of his ancestors and their journeys through the snow whilst his own was created before him. He had never found himself to enjoy anything more than the current forecast, the white blanket doing well to momentarily wipe the coast entirely from his mind for the first time in a long time.

Although the snowfall should have encouraged him to remain at home, it had quite the opposite effect on the young male; with each flake that added to the whitening of the earth underfoot, the more restless he became. But he couldn’t leave them—or, rather, he simply would not; the idea of leaving behind the faces most familiar to him was unsettling and he worried that, should he leave, he may never find his way back. How many had gone and not returned? He couldn’t add himself to those numbers. So Aningan loitered as far from the heart of the territory as he could, each jolt of energy driving him to better his maneuvering through the endless frost. Up until the frost took shape and that shape solidified, creating a wolf, not unlike himself.

“Kina…?” he drawled, slowed by uncertainty. Was this truly a wolf before him, or a mere illusion of the ice? He squinted against the flurries and then his eyes widened with realisation, his own voice repeating in his head. “Ah, no…” A restart was necessary. “Who are you?”