Irene had walked quite a distance away from the small cabin they occupied. She was slower than usual, but unmistakably had taken one direction.
Her footprints disappeared in the top layer of snow due to the snowstorm that had rolled in. Her journey was erased from the world as she went forth blindly. Not only was the snow blowing horizontally, but it was also practically pitch-black.
Eventually, the knight settled onto her knees in the middle of a field. The earth started to shake. If she was coherent, she would recognize the familiar feeling of a wyrm nearby now that she was where the snow was much deeper.
Despite this, Irene hadn't been alone.
Sammy urgently followed her. He occasionally stood in front of her to block her path forward, understanding instinctively that further away from shelter meant danger. He had been hiding against the wall with Froid.
He neighed and stomped, but Irene would push past him, and he wasn't so disobedient as to stop her using force.
