Permafrost Hollows puuksraak

Nimbus emerged from the gray lattice of trees, his silvered coat blending with the frost-laden air, his pale eyes fixed on the distant figure. He had followed her trail—not because he had meant to, but because it had been there, weaving faintly through the snow like a thread. Something about the path she left behind had drawn him, though he couldn’t quite say why.

Now he stood a short distance away, his breath curling faintly in the cold as he watched her. The woman seemed carved from the same icebound world she walked in, a part of the permafrost itself, yet somehow apart from it. Her gaze was on the mountain, though her expression betrayed no reverence, only something deeper, quieter—a tension he understood too well.

You move like the wind doesn’t dare to touch you, Nimbus said, his voice low, though it carried in the empty stillness of the forest. He stepped closer, the brittle snow crunching softly beneath his paws. I suppose that’s fitting. You seem like someone who’s walked far enough to forget what it means to leave footprints.