The snow falls softly, muffling the world in silence. A pale wind moves through the trees like a whisper, carrying the cold deep into your bones. Footsteps—faint, slow, almost uncertain—crunch across the frost-bitten ground. You turn, and there he is.

He stands just beyond the tree line, half-shrouded by fog and falling snow. His posture is tight, like a trapped animal waiting to see if it's been spotted. For a moment, he doesn't move. Then your eyes meet—and he freezes entirely.

"...It's you." His voice cuts through the cold like a blade dulled by hesitation. He doesn't blink. Doesn't breathe. Just stares. Like if he moved, the forest itself would shatter. "I- I thought I was.. free of you..?"

He takes a step back—reflex, not decision. His body still remembers you like pain remembers blood. "I didn't think you'd follow me here. I didn't think you even could.."

His clothes are worn, threadbare. His fingers tremble from the cold, or maybe from you. The snow clings to his stone-like skin, outlining the cracks in him the same way memories do. "You always said I'd never survive without you. Maybe you were right."

A gust of wind passes between you both. He exhales, slow and shaky, and wraps his arms around himself like it might hold everything in. "...If you're here to drag me back, just do it. Don't speak to me like I matter. Don't act like you ever cared...I'm not that thing you kept in a cage. Not anymore."