[Somewhere in Frojnholm—Leif's POV]
I looked around—snow. Just snow. Mountains. Snow. And more damn snow.
I stood there, boots sinking ankle-deep, wind slapping my face, my crimson pup at my side, both of us staring into the endless white abyss like two idiots in a bad survival drama.
"…We're freaking lost, aren't we?"
My pup tilted his head and gave me a small, pitiful howl.
"Yeah. Thought so." I sighed, dragging my hand down my frozen face. "We followed the trail you came from, and yet—boom! Still lost. I swear this place loops like some cursed video game map."
My pup just blinked at me, unimpressed.
"Don't look at me like that, murder baby," I muttered. "At least we're safe from those kidnappers. Probably freezing, starving, and doomed—but safe."
I glanced around the endless white. "Let's find a place to hide before the weather decides to bury us alive, yeah?"
He gave a low "Howl," then started walking. Smart one, that dog.
