Drip!
Drip!
Large drops of water fell from the houses' overhangs as the rain finally ceased. The sky was growing brighter and the silence became heavier. This deserted part of the town seemed drearier than before the rain had stopped.
The damp air thickened while Snow tried to catch a scent. Silver eyes narrowed as the youth walked, waiting...
Splash!
It was a soft sound but it couldn't' escape Moulin's attention. In the next second, he left his position, swiftly materializing an ice blade in his hand.
Whoosh!
"Ah..."
The sharp point of the blade pressed against a man's heaving chest. The ice shimmered dangerously. Had it stopped a second late, it would have mercilessly pierced through his heart.
The tall muscular man raised his hands in surrender. His brown eyes are soft, ridden with a bit of guilt, behind the eyeholes of his mask.
Moulin's eyes widened, "Erik?..."
