Warmth accompanies her. Like a shroud of unrelenting sunlight, she steps into the mouth of the tunnel and the tunnel seems brighter for it. The smell of vanilla and honey wafts through the entrance, pressing against the yoke of the bitter and cold wind at his back. She saunters closer, and closer—and Radovan's feet do not stir from beneath him even as she presses past him. The kiss of her fur against his happens for just a moment, but the spark it leaves behind is warm and new and wrong.

“I suppose so,” she answers, just as Radovan is still trying to catch his breath. “This place… it’s all new to me. Most of these lands are. I can’t even remember how I ended up here.”

He considers her down the length of his nose, his initial bewilderment softening into understanding.

Then, he follows after her.

Just woke up here one day, right? he states, more than he asks. Instead of rushing up to her side, he lets the distance yawn between them—gracious, comfortable. And yet, I have a feeling we've only begun to scratch the surface of otherworldly.

Everything about this place feels wrong, but his body has long since stopped trying to fight it. Instead, he feels as if the strange air is no longer burning his lungs; that the energy coursing through the wind no longer makes the back of his teeth ache.

His head, meanwhile, still has some catching up to do.

He pauses, canting his ears in her direction. Name's Radovan.