Life in the Bay was changed. The land itself was the same - familiar snow-swept tundras, thick pine forests swathed in inky shadows, a horizon dotted with mountains that reached for the skies - but the atmosphere had shifted, an eerie silence hanging in the air. The birds were too quiet and the near-constant whisper of the wind through the treetops had settled to only the occasional murmur of rustling leaves. In Fell's absence the Bay seemed quieter.

Emhyr, despite his youth and inexperience, had stepped up to fill the void his father had left. He'd thought at length of leading before, but had never imagined it would happen in such a manner as this. Through these odd set of circumstances he'd been catapulted to the top of the Bay's hierarchy, torn from the comfort and safety of the shadows in which he so often lingered.

On long arctic nights when the howling wind was his only chosen company, he'd often pondered on what type of leader he would aspire to be when the time came to claim his own home. But that time was here and now, as terrifying and unexpected as a midwinter avalanche, leaving him little time to think upon these things as he once had. Now was the time for decisions: was he to be kind but firm and fair like his grandsire Solomon? Or was he to follow the example his father had set in his youth, garnering his power through unrelenting aggression, until his name spread like wildfire across the islands?

Such questions hounded him as he ambled his way down the beach, pale sand stretching in a crooked road before him. Dark eyes shifted north towards the Inlet border, a thoughtful expression drawn across his shadowed features. Soon he would have to venture beyond his home's borders and attempt to garner the support of his neighbors. But for now, the newly crowned king was content to stay put and spend his days learning the ins and outs of his new role.