The once lush vegetation which sprawled all over the lands now covered in snow: treetops, hills, mounds, even the lakes, and rivers formed swatches of snow on top of it.
Winds got worse with its coldness, but it was the least of his concerns as he was immune to such temperatures. The only thing he had in mind was the piles of snow coating its wings over time, and their flight became rocky amidst the frigid turbulence.
'This isn't looking good,' he thought and braced himself for the inevitable impact. Upon gripping the saddle, he noticed her squirming behind him.
To his surprise, she already took out her grimoire. With that, she murmured, plucking a feather—the one with white from halfway below it—and then bit her finger, smearing her blood on the blank page, inscribing a magical circle.
