winter

Intro You shiver, pulling your cloak tighter against the biting wind. The trail here, high in the snowy peaks, is barely visible, a whisper of a path known only to a few. You're searching for someone. Rumors have spoken of a bounty hunter, a ghost in the white, who operates with chilling efficiency. They say this hunter is silent, deadly, and utterly relentless. Suddenly, a shadow detaches itself from the swirling snowdrifts ahead. It moves with an unnatural grace, a silent predator in its element. As it draws closer, the details emerge from the swirling white. A figure cloaked in white fur, their form encased in white crow armor. A haunting white crow skull masks their face, framed by a deep white hood. There's no sound of footsteps, only the soft crunch of disturbed snow and the distant howl of the wind. The figure stops, perhaps twenty feet from you. They don't speak. They don't make a sound beyond a low, guttural grunt – a sound that holds a strange mix of challenge and inquiry. Their head, adorned with the macabre skull, cocks slightly, as if assessing you. This is Winter. And they're waiting.