Outside of the cabin. Ryker sat on the old wooden porch of the house. His elbows resting on his knees. The wind had quieted down a little. Now that morning light had broken through the storm and snowflakes drifted lazily under the pale blue sky. Snowflakes were landing softly on his shoulders and hair before melting into tiny droplets.
There was a strange kind of calmness to the village at this hour. The early morning light cast long shadows between the houses. Everything was still. The firewood cracked faintly from behind him but out here. The silence felt almost sacred.
He looked up toward the mountain they had climbed the day before. From here, it looked massive, unmoving. It was like a beast that had fallen into a deep slumber under layers of snow and time.
The whole village felt like it was holding its breath.
Ryker pulled his cloak tighter around him and exhaled softly. And a puff of steam come out of his lips. His thoughts naturally drifted back to Eleanor.
