Wapun Meadow gilded lily

Cole's approach was steady, deliberate, his large frame cutting through the snowy expanse with ease as he emerged from the cover of the trees. His amber eyes landed on the spritely figure moving through the meadow, her song carried faintly on the winter breeze. He did not recognize her, and that was enough to raise his guard.

He stopped a respectful distance away, his posture neutral yet firm, a sentinel in the wilderness. His voice, low and even, broke through the melody of her tune.

You’re far from any familiar claim, stranger. These lands aren’t as empty as they look.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. She carried herself with a lightness that contrasted sharply with his own grounded demeanor.