His thick coat and harsh upbringing were all that saved him now.
Forward. By Houtu's grace alone he had made it this far, battling fearsome polar winds and dodging the glowing fissures that split the earth, devouring trees and animals alike in their suddenness. So far he'd been lucky - blessed, even. Favored. Likely this was some spiritual test for him to endure.
Oh, but not even his frigid past in the deep mountains could have prepared him for this.
Святая Мать-Волчица, даруй мне свою силу -he muttered under his breath, struggling to form the words through his frozen lips. As long as he kept talking, kept moving, he could keep the blood pumping and continue to search for these powerful Runes the stranger so urgently spoke of. Clearly time was running out, he thought, shifting his gaze toward the Moving Isle.
Runes.
Head down, he pushed onward, scanning the horizon for any sign of a pulsing blue glow that didn't fall down to the center of the earth...
Huh. Well, something was glowing.
Dimas, intrigued by the strange purple flame, approached it cautiously.




