Yuki tore through the dark, freezing pine woods like a madman.
"Rin!" he screamed, his voice completely hoarse.
He didn't care that his pristine white silk robes were ripped and soaked in his own blood. He didn't care that his divine mana was nearly depleted from fighting that weird, rusted Kamakura-era samurai monster. The only thing that mattered was the terrifying trail of red blood staining the snow.
He pushed through a massive thicket of dead thorn bushes, ignoring the way they tore at his skin.
"Rin, answer me!" Yuki yelled, his breath turning to thick white clouds in the freezing air.
Suddenly, the suffocating, unnatural gray fog simply... stopped.
Yuki stumbled forward into a wide, perfectly circular clearing. He froze, his turquoise eyes going wide in absolute confusion.
It shouldn't have been possible. It was the dead of winter in the Northern Marches. The ground should have been frozen solid. But inside this specific clearing, the snow was completely gone.
