The wind twisted and churned, stealing his voice and whisking it away. The stone prince's ears cupped forward, hoping, waiting, for any response.

Only the wind whistled through the stones.

Swallowing hard, Ujurak breathed deeply. Frigid air flowed into his lungs, and fogged out of his nose when he exhaled. Perhaps Sven was not able to hear him. Maybe his brother had found a place to shelter in this weather. It would have been the sensible thing to do.

Hello? Are you alright? Are you lost?

Distracted by his own thoughts, Ujurak failed to notice the woman's approach. Startled by the sound, Ujurak pivoted where he stood. Left eye still closed, and right eye narrowed to protect against the cruel wind, it took him a couple sweeps of his head to locate the voice's owner. His gaze finally landing upon the small, white wolf, Ujurak blinked slowly.

Oh, halló. (Hello) Do you live here? I am sorry to intrude. Even with his heart hollowed, Ujurak had the sense to be polite. It was how it always has been. I'm afraid I am lost. I am searching for my bróðir (brother). Have you seen a wolf of similar height to me? The night sky patterns his fur.