Silver eyes gradually opened. A baleful gust of cold wind surrounded him. He was vulnerable against it. Moulin crouched slightly, rubbing his arms, and bent his waist. His breaths appeared like steam.
Where was he?
The sound of nature reached his ears. The rustle of branches, snapping of ice, and the whistles of the frigid wind. He trembled as he took in his surroundings. The ice beneath his feet creaked. It stretched far with its edge against the snow-covered shoreline. In the distance, white trees blanketed the mountains, surrounded by a deathly cold breath. It is magnificent yet peril hides beneath its white cloak.
Moulin's teeth clattered.
This place... It was so familiar...
Wait. His eyes widened slightly. Silver pupils quivered.
When the wind blew past him, whispering incoherently as though it was comforting him through his struggle, he bent, rubbing his arms. Never had he felt so cold before.
