David exhaled a plume of icy breath, his words escaping like smoke into the frostbitten air. "The King of the Night," he muttered, the title hanging heavy on his mind.
The chill seeped into his bones, and with a final glance at the ominous, moonless sky, he turned back inside, shutting the door behind him with a shudder. The muffled sounds of activity from the upper floors reached his ears, but he ignored them as he made his way to the hearth. The promise of warmth lured him closer, and he crouched by the flickering flames, stretching his stiff fingers toward the fire.
The creak of the stairs broke his momentary peace. A man descended, tying the lasso of his pants with a wide grin plastered across his sweaty face. The man's eyes locked onto David, and he called out, "Winter!"
