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Waking before dawn had long ceased to be a matter of discipline; it was instinct now, etched deep into bone and marrow. The hours before the sun’s rise were his: quiet, untouched. A time when the world still held its breath and no one asked anything of him. His first nights on the peak had offered little in the way of rest. The cave walls, though sheltering, felt unfamiliar. The scent of wolves he did not know clung too close for comfort. He had slept apart, as always, just far enough that the silence remained his own. Let them whisper that he was ghost-born, frostbound and unwilling to settle; he preferred it that way.
The wraith rose with the faint light of stars still scattered across the sky. Snow shifted softly beneath his paws as he slipped from the shadowed cleft he’d claimed, moving as fog down the ridgeline. The cold bit into his coat, but he welcomed it. A morning patrol would suffice; either to calm his unsettled thoughts or, failing that, to feed the queen’s stores. And yet... it was not game that caught his eye this time.
She was ahead of him, barely more than a silhouette against the frost-streaked brush. A woman cloaked in ice and soil, moving with the steady rhythm of one who’d done this many times before. Her silence intrigued him. No wasted steps, no idle breath. She bore the look of purpose, not pride; something too few here possessed. A loyal maiden gathering scraps for the queen, a mere servant. But Astier did not scoff at such roles. He had once worn that yoke himself, young and sharp-eyed, shadowing his father’s steps in silence. Servitude shaped a man in ways command never could. Still, he might have moved on, unnoticed, unseen, but curiosity was a quiet hunger, and this morning, it gnawed at him.
His voice slipped from between his teeth, low and even, breaking the hush without shattering it: „Up so early?” The words were neither mocking nor warm. He stepped forward with measured grace, his silver eyes tracing her form; not with lust, but with that cold, assessing gaze he turned upon all things unknown. His presence, like winter itself, arrived in silence. If she proved interesting enough... well. He might stay a moment longer.