The wind whips at his delicate face. His brows are drawn into a frown—a slight crease between his eyebrows. His fingertips are curled around the soft silvery fur of the beast's back as he rides. Moulin's trust on Snow was great. He knew there was definitely something bothering the Kier and Snow. Whatever it was, they were going to find out.
Silver eyes glanced at the massive wolf beside him. Kier was huffed like a wolf in the hunt, chasing down its prey. His jaws are bared and angry. The man atop the back of the giant beast showed nothing of his emotions as he rode. His golden eyes are sharp as if suspicious of the wind brushing his face. However, Moulin knew what indeed was the reason for the lord's stern expression.