Winter tightened its icy grip on Tinuvel. Above, the sky sagged under the weight of dark clouds, heavy with the promise of snow. The temperature fell sharply, and the air became unnervingly still, as though the entire island were holding its breath before the storm broke. Eythora lifted her luminous blue eyes to the heavens, a faint crease forming between her brows. Then she looked to her daughter - now nearly matching her in height. Eve,” she said, her voice edged with caution, “we should find shelter.”

Evette’s dark-tipped ears twitched beneath the sweep of her silvery forelock. She gave a small nod and fell into step behind her mother. The crisp bite of the air filled her lungs, sending a thrill through her. Snow crunched beneath her hooves, and each breath she exhaled blossomed into a cloud that swirled around her muzzle. Frost dusted her whiskers like tiny jewels. In a burst of youthful mischief, she stretched forward to nip her mother’s hip, then pranced away, laughing in her own silent way as Eythora’s playful kick swiped harmlessly at the empty air.

They pressed on across the white meadow until the dark pines rose before them, their shadows merging with the foothills beyond. The narrow path led into the trees, tracing the course of a steaming creek - its waters bubbling hot from the base of a jagged cliff. Even here, winter could not claim everything; tufts of green grass pushed through the thinned snow, nourished by the heat of the springs.

Shelter awaited them in this hidden haven, a place Eythora had discovered after long months of searching. Warmth spilled from the crystalline waters that welled up from the depths of the earth, and a faint smile softened her features. They had found safety before the storm broke.