Snow had begun to drift lazily down from the sky. Many of the tiny snowflakes seemed to disappear before reappearing, dotting the grey and brown fur mantle that draped over the shoulders of a tall and slender figure. The stranger appeared to be a young man in his late teens, his body whipcord thin and clad in thick, mottled grey leathers. The hood of his cloak was drawn up around his neck, but did not cover the crown of his head. The furs licked at the curves of his ears, and brushed along a narrow, dark-skinned jaw. Tied up behind his head was a silver tail of hair that fell beneath the security of his cloak, as straight as steel pins, albeit somewhat messy.
He had been marching for some time, exploring the area around his camp for fallen wood, or anything else that could be of use in this desolate place. He shivered, having no fondness of the cold, and wandered further through the wilderness.
Suddenly, the silence of the clearing was shattered by the not-so-distant sound of metal on metal. The figure raised their head to listen, catching what sounded like a cry of pain that was nearly hidden completely by a brief and heavy gust. The young man lifted a hand to his face and brushed back a mess of silver before moving forward at a faster pace - that sounded like a trap - and where there was a trap sprung, there was likely to be food.
