Prowling the Northern Peaks

Under the sapphire dome of a cloudless winter night, the highest ridgeline of the Frostpeak Glaciers gleamed like polished crystal beneath the brilliant silver glow of the waxing gibbous moon. The air at this altitude was thin, pure, and so cold it could freeze an ordinary wolf’s breath into icicles on its whiskers, but for the royal pair, it was an exhilarating sanctuary of wild, untamed freedom. Far below lay…