Scene: Snowfall

Winter had come to the forest. The crumbling manor stood half-hidden beneath a heavy quilt of white, icicles hanging like crystal teeth from the eaves. Rosaline stepped into the courtyard, her boots crunching softly in the snow. The air was sharp, her breath pluming before her.

She bent down, scooping a handful of snow into her gloves. For a moment she hesitated—then smiled, her eyes glinting mischievously. She packed the snow tight, aimed carefully, and let it fly.

It struck Amarok squarely on the shoulder.

He turned slowly from where he stood near the gate, black coat dusted with flakes. His mismatched eyes narrowed, but there was no real anger in them. A puff of laughter escaped him, rough and surprised.

“You dare,” he murmured, voice rumbling like distant thunder.

Rosaline only laughed and darted behind a half-collapsed stone wall. Another snowball in hand. “You looked far too serious. Someone had to do something about it.”

In a blur, Amarok lunged. His speed was unnatural—predator’s grace, even in human form—but Rosaline squealed and ducked away just in time. Her snowball smacked against his chest.

His lips curved, baring the faintest edge of a smile. “Foolish girl,” he said, but the words held no bite. He stooped, gathering snow in his broad hands, crafting a perfect sphere. “If it is war you want…”

The battle began in earnest. Snow flew across the courtyard, laughter echoing off the manor walls. Rosaline darted quick as a fox, cheeks flushed, hair dusted white. Amarok moved like a shadow, but for once, he was not the hunter. He was simply a man, laughing—truly laughing—as he let her strikes land more often than his own.

At last, Rosaline stumbled, breathless, and Amarok caught her by the wrist before she could fall. Their laughter faded into quiet, their eyes meeting. She could feel the warmth of his hand even through the cold.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The snow drifted gently around them, settling in his dark hair, glimmering against her cloak.

“Rosaline,” Amarok said softly, testing her name as if it were fragile glass.

Her heart stuttered. She had never heard her name sound like that—half a prayer, half a promise.

Neither spoke further. They simply stood together in the snow, their breaths mingling, until the cold no longer seemed to matter.