The path through the Dreadfang Mountains is like riding into a dream spun from frost and shadow. The air is sharp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and cold stone, every breath a cloud of mist.
Snow clung to the branches of ancient, towering evergreens, the white so pure it seemed to glow in the pale light of dawn. Frozen waterfalls shimmered like walls of crystal, catching hints of blue and silver as the sun broke weakly through the clouds.
Vivianne sat in front of Roxanne, wrapped securely in her wife's arms. The steady rhythm of the warhorse's gait rocked them gently, and despite the biting cold, Vivianne felt safe and warm against Roxanne's chest. The heat radiating from Roxanne's half-demon body seeped through layers of fabric, chasing away the chill that tried to creep into Vivianne's bones.
