The howl of the wind echoes throughout the tundra, resonating against the towering mountains and ravines. It cuts through the valleys hoisting up the powdered snow before colliding against the mountain’s edges. Along the mountains, small outcroppings and cliff edges act as natural shelter from the torrential winds.
Tucked behind one of these outcroppings the figure of a Mali’Fenn sits beside a small fire, trying to keep the flames alive despite the tundra’s best efforts. The ‘Fenn pauses his work upon noticing a single bird navigating the flurries of snow. After struggling against the force of the wind the bird manages to land alongside the ‘Fenn with a piece of paper wrapped around its leg. In a single movement the bird shakes the resilient snow from its feathers. A chuckle resonates from the ‘Fenn as he glances to his companion, outstretching his hand to take the letter. It takes some time and fumbling for the man to untie the red ribbon the letter was bound by, but once undone he tosses the ribbon into the flickering flames before resting backwards in order to inspect the letter.
As he unfolds the note he allows a shiver to run along his body from the cold, silently wishing the fire would grow larger.
“Where’d you find this llir?”
The man hums to the bird as he begins to read through the letter. His eyes skim across the paper, mouthing the words along silently before pausing suddenly. After a squint of his eyes he mutters “Akkar Hmm? Well that’s different.” After finishing the letter the man begins reading it again, determined to commit the writing to memory. After feeling content with his grasp on the letter he turns it over, noticing that the back of the letter has the name of the recipient written on it.
The ‘Fenn cannot help but allow a smile to creep across his face upon seeing the name. He glances to his companion to see if he is equally amused by this, but the bird has busied himself with plucking an unfortunate bug from it’s feathers. Returning his attention back to the letter the man leans forward, resting it upside down atop the flames. As the sparks begin to ignite the edges of the paper the Mali’Fenn stands up from his seat, retrieving his tools and lute from the ground. Giving a quick whistle, the bird flies to its companion, perching on the man’s forearm carefully.
The Mali’Fenn turns around, beginning his first step down the mountain. However, he can’t help but give one final glance over his shoulder at the burning letter with yet another chuckle. Despite the flames engulfing the paper, the same three words can still be seen, standing out defiantly;
DEAR AREVTHOR TATHVIR