Cold and silent, the air was as the woods fell into a dead slumber under the covered sky of the night. The leaves from the trees rustled as the wind brush passed them. The sound of the evening seemed soothing and wary. Tiny white dots fluttered in the air. If one would look closer, they would recognize snowflakes hovering in the air as if they had possessed a soul.
One tiny snowflake landed on the surface of the whitest silk robes. On the shoulders of a reigning prince of Thundralln who currently had his buttocks planted flat on the cold ground. The bitter pads of his fingers pressing on the hard and stiff earth. He was breathing rapidly. Not out of shock or fear but... relief. No one could understand the comfort he felt at the moment. He internally praised himself as lucky as he stared at the appeased expression of his most admired person. Although the dirt has stained his robes, he didn't pay a bit of attention to it.