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Morning came swiftly, and Muso's firm voice roused Roderick from his slumber. "Get up," the warrior said, nudging him lightly with the hilt of his sword. "We're heading to the Grey Snow port. From there, we'll leave the Northern Snow and cross into the borders of the Grey Snow region."
Roderick groggily sat up, rubbing his eyes against the bitter cold of dawn. The spirit wolf had vanished, leaving no trace of its presence save for the faint warmth lingering in the air. Muso was already packing up his few belongings, his movements quick and precise.
"Not much for letting a man sleep in, are you?" Roderick muttered, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself.
"The peaks are no place for leisure," Muso replied curtly. "If we linger, the winds will catch us before we descend. Move before the sun does."
Without another word, Muso began walking, his figure a silhouette against the pale glow of the rising sun. Roderick hurried to gather his things, falling into step behind the warrior. As they trekked along the jagged peaks, the first rays of sunlight broke through the fog, illuminating the vast expanse of snow-covered mountains. The sight was both humbling and awe-inspiring, and Roderick couldn't help but pause to take it in.
Muso glanced back, noticing Roderick's momentary halt. "The world doesn't wait, castle-dweller," he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. "Keep up, or you'll be left behind."
"Yeah, yeah," Roderick muttered, picking up his pace. "Don't worry about me; I'm not exactly new to climbing mountains, you know."
Muso's silence was his only response as they continued their descent. The snow beneath their feet crunched softly, and the cold air bit at their faces. As they traveled, Roderick's curiosity once again got the better of him.
"So," he began, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air, "this port we're heading to... what's it like? A bustling place? Quiet fishing village?"
"It is neither," Muso replied without looking back. "It is a refuge for those who do not wish to be found. Traders, wanderers, and the occasional outlaw pass through. Few stay for long."
"Sounds... cozy," Roderick said with a chuckle, though Muso's lack of humor left it hanging in the air. "And from there, what? Are we sailing somewhere grand? Or is this just another one of your cryptic stops?"
Muso stopped abruptly, turning to face Roderick. "You'll know when we arrive," he said, his voice low but firm. "For now, focus on the path ahead. The Grey Snow is not as forgiving as the Northern peaks."
Roderick nodded, sensing the weight in Muso's words. As much as he wanted to press for answers, he decided—for now—to follow Muso's lead in silence. The journey was far from over, and the promise of the unknown ahead was enough to keep him moving forward.
As the days and weeks passed, their journey carried them beyond the frigid peaks of the Northern Snow and into the vast expanse of the Grey Snow territory. The landscape shifted subtly, the snowfields punctuated by scattered pines and low, jagged rocks. Though the change was subtle, Roderick felt the difference immediately. A weight pressed down on him, as though unseen eyes were fixed upon his every step.
