The rough kiss of winter brushed against the King's face as he gazed out at the wind lapping the green sea ahead of him, the emerald frays of weed dancing along the dark, restless currents. Moss clung to the rocks and ancient trees lining the road, and the cold air turned to white mist each time the King's mouth breathed.
In and out.Like he had always done.Like it always was.
He had walked these roads a dozen times in his life, and yet only now did it feel as if his spirit had truly returned home. He could see that same quiet revelation reflected in the eyes of his soldiers, who pushed through the maws of war with a lighter step now that the winds of home were whistling past their ears, lovingly tracing cold path upon their faces.
Alpheo smiled faintly as a lone falcon skimmed low over the frosted grass, a heavy winter rabbit trapped in its talons, before disappearing into the treeline just above the horizon.
"Ever tasted falcon?" a rough voice asked beside him.
