Dawnlark Plains you're a poem of mystery,

faust’s green eyes narrowed as he observed her approach, the deliberate crunch of snow under her paws betraying her caution. she was pale, a creature of frost and shadow, her fur almost glowing against the stark backdrop of winter. yet, her hesitance, the slight puff of her coat as if to appear larger, betrayed her uncertainty. he tilted his head, watching her with a mix of curiosity and scrutiny.

no, he said plainly, his voice low, edged with a roughness born from weariness. his words were simple but carried the weight of a man who rarely spoke without purpose.

she carried the scent of unfamiliar lands, a note of something distant, almost foreign. faust considered this as he adjusted his stance, allowing the rabbit carcass to shift slightly where it hung from his jaws. her voice, melodic yet tinged with something akin to steel, stirred an old memory—faint, distant, like a whisper carried on the wind.

why pretty girl alone, snow-dweller? he asked after a pause, his tone neither welcoming nor hostile. his gaze lingered on her, studying the way she held herself, her cautious steps. a predator, but not an immediate threat. not yet.