Ravensblood Forest half-sweet white chocolate mocha

It is not that the snow itself bothers him, nor that he dislikes winter entirely - winter is beautiful. The howling of the winter winds across the prairie is one of his favorite things; seeing the flakes dancing through the air is another. Mink has fond memories of the winter, although they are few and far between now, and it is the absence of his family that makes him truly ache. Maybe it is this homesickness that plagues him rather than anything tangible. His sour mood does not last long at all - he is too busy navigating the forest, investigating burms of grass with a soft dusting of snow, to realize he is crossing through a claimed land until it is too late.

The stranger that greets him seems to be clad in silver and pearl. He is soft, at least upon first glance. Mink decides he likes the champagne-blush color of the stranger's eyes before he even speaks. I was - I am, he says with a light tone, equal parts confused and obscure, Sorry, I mean... I'm new to the area, and not really sure... Where I am, or where I'm heading. His toffee-toned ears split sideways atop his head; he is embarrassed, apologetic, and curious all at once.

What is this place, if I may ask? Mink queries boldly, and realizes as he fall silent that he cannot hear the wind.