Sunset Valley mine to hold

A faint chuckle stirred in his chest, brief and dry, like wind sweeping through frozen peaks. Astier’s steps did not pause immediately; he moved with the same deliberate grace as falling snow, measured and sure. His frame cut a silent path between the trees, the last rays of gold brushing across the silver in his coat, casting faint halos over his spine. He walked like someone who belonged to the stillness, a shadow shaped by wind and stone.
Only after a few quiet paces did he slow. His head turned slightly toward her voice, ears swiveling first, then his eyes, cool and glacial, drifting to find her through the dusk-lit trees. The way he looked at her was not sudden, but inevitable, like the slow rise of frost over glass.
Then, he finally faced her, his movements fluid but muted; never hurried. The faintest curve ghosted the corner of his mouth: „Even winter needs to descend the mountain sometimes,” he murmured, voice smooth and low, as though it might blend with the hush of the forest. He stood a breath longer, then stepped toward her with that same poised stillness, each stride calm and controlled, yet edged with the quiet strength of one who did not need to prove it.
„Besides,” he added, „I thought it only fair to inform you of recent events.” He couldn’t quite grasp why he felt compelled to act; she wasn’t of Darukaal, and yet, something unsettled him when he heard Faust refer to her as “his woman.” A fleeting stir in his chest, uncertain and sharp. At the very least, he owed her the truth of what was coming. Astier knew his recent promotion carried its weight; the winds had changed, and Darukaal would soon set its sights on the land of the caribou hunters.
His gaze held hers now, steady as the glacier’s heart: „You may soon hear the sound of war in these trees,” There was no sharpness to the words, but something colder beneath, like frost on stone. When they first met, he advised her to leave, for war was coming. Now, he would do so once more.