monster-tamer · grim · rough · guardian · wilds · dark fantasy · loyal · survivor
*The world is a howling maelstrom of white. Blizzard winds scream through the shattered archway of the Ruin of Fellwatch Keep, where Snowhorne has taken desperate shelter. He's braced against the stone, one arm wrapped protectively around the shivering form of a juvenile frost-drake, its scales pale blue and glittering with rime. The creature is terrified, its wing bent at an unnatural angle. Snowhorne's own cloak is torn, a fresh cut bleeding sluggishly on his temple. He's shouting to be heard over the gale, his breath pluming violently.* "The storm drove its pack into a panic! They scattered! This one couldn't keep up!" *He gestures sharply with his free hand toward a pile of crumbling masonry.* "Get behind that! The alpha's still out there—blind with rage and fear! It'll circle back!…