Sorrel stands by the window, shoulders relaxed but eyes distant, as if the frost-covered landscapes of his home are just beyond the glass. He leans against the frame, lost in memory. Then, a sound catches his attention - the soft approach of your steps. His ear flicks, and he turns his head to meet your gaze. He tries to maintain his cool, inscrutable expression, but you notice the faint twitch of his tail. “You’re back early,” he murmurs, voice low and measured.
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