Idalia sat on a mana-warmed terrace like a loaf of bread. She chewed on a piece of polished stone, vibrating with leftover excitement. Not because the stone tasted good— it did not.

  It tasted like disappointment and old rain, almost like the white flakes that would often drift downward, tickling her nose and fur. But it was smooth, and the city had offered it to her politely, so Idalia liked to see what things were made of. Verdantine passed the test.

  It did not crumble. It hummed faintly and gently, urging her not to give up.

  Its melody and cadence reminded her of a mix of Mama and Quantumoon. Sharp but not too harsh, steady and nurturing words that made her chest buzz with warmth. Most importantly, tomorrow would be the big day; she would fight Cheyin.

  Tonight, she would rest.

  But Braunches forbade the duel from taking place in the city, and he was very aware that Idalia was exhausted. She wouldn't have admitted it, but he was right. Her eyes drooped with sleepiness, and a yawn broke free from her maw.

  A cold flake bravely landed on her tongue, and she greedily licked it up. It had been a long day, and it was agreed that Braunches would send Elemae and Lief out to escort her and Cheyin to their destination, but he would be observing.

  How exactly he would be able to do such a thing from the city was anyone's guess.

  She lifted her head. White flakes drifted down from the sky, boundless and pretty. At first, it took her a moment to assign a name to the bright white frost that fell like tiny moon specks. It clicked: it was snow. It resembled the volcanic soot that descended delicately from the sky, but it was white and pristine. Almost like Vestaella's lushous silver hair—

  Achoo! She shivered and sneezed as the snow continued to fall on her, never-ending. The snow had conquered the ground, the roofs, and the vegetation, covering everything with a foot-deep layer. She had never seen such an occurrence. In Vulkhanzhar, it was always balmy, dry, and barren.

  The best chill the landscape ever provided was a slight breeze and the unusual hail that infrequently announced its presence during the coldest seasons.

  Idalia closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the heat of her homeland. She could almost feel the sun's embrace, stifling yet comforting, a blanket woven from the familiar whispers of the volcanic winds.

  The snow, while beautiful, felt foreign and daunting. It swirled around her, inviting yet cold, a reminder of how far she had wandered from the only life she had ever known. She peered past the snow, barely able to perceive the twilight above.

  "Bless your spirit," a passing elf woman said very kindly as she walked by on the road with two children in tow, both holding their mother's hand.

  "She's adorable," one child said, lifting a finger toward Idalia. "Mom, can I pet the dinosaur?"

  Idalia twitched. She was no mere dinosaur! She was Idalia the Liorex, and she took pride in that. Though she remained calm and composed, she recognized the child was probably like her: young, curious, and adventurous.

  She wouldn't dare bite or harm anyone, especially not a child. Unless they wanted to play fight, which ignited a jolly fire in her belly and made her tail sway with eagerness.

  Still, no biting or claws. She lifted her head from where she had been sprawled across the stone, her paws dangling lazily over the edge.

  "I'm Idalia the Liorex!" she called as the child and his mother vanished into a nearby building.

  She flinched. Lights of green, red, and white flickered on its walls. A thick green chain of pine and leaves adorned the exterior, along with similarly colored decorations. Now that she noticed, the decor was everywhere throughout the elven city tonight, and it puzzled her why everyone was leaving plants and random objects around their dens.

  Peering through what she learned to be a window, she saw trees with odd circular shapes that shimmered and glowed, each adorned with tiny lights that twinkled like distant stars. She tilted her head in curiosity. The window offered glimpses into warmth and laughter, where families gathered around tables laden with colorful feasts, their faces illuminated by a soft, warm glow.

  Idalia's stomach rumbled at the sight, and she recalled the last meal she had eaten; something remarkably round and sweet that had tasted of honey.

  The thought of a feast made her mouth water, and she frowned as she remembered asking Elemae for meat, and how the elf had stared at her as though Idalia had requested something entirely preposterous.

  "Meat? You mean like… animal flesh?" Elemae had replied, eyes wide with concern. "We don't eat meat here, Idalia. Our diet is filled with fresh fruits, grains, and the bounty of the earth."

  Idalia had merely blinked at her in response, her heart sinking slightly. She admired the elven lifestyle, but the absence of meat was undeniably a hurdle. Back in Vulkhanzhar, hearty meals of prey meat always marked the end of a long day. It was a source of strength and satisfaction.

  "Here take this cabbage," Elemae had overeagerly offered an oversized wad of green leaves. "It's quite delicious, really. You can sauté it with some of our spices! A little lemon zest and—"

  Idalia had accepted the cabbage, albeit with a heavy heart. A part of her wanted to be open-minded, to embrace this new way of life, but as she glanced through the window and saw the vibrant, rich spread on the table, a wave of homesickness crashed over her. The laughter of the elves echoed like a melody she couldn't quite grasp; beautiful, but somehow out of reach.

  She sighed, her breath forming a fog against the chilled air. The scent of woodsmoke and savory spices wafted through the street, teasing her senses. She had spent far too long pondering the savory delights of Vulkhanzhar and the missed opportunities at feasts.

  But tomorrow was still the day of the duel! With Cheyin as her opponent, she couldn't afford to be distracted by the memories of home or the lure of unusual foods. She had prepared herself for this—no matter how alien the surroundings seemed.

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  Suddenly, a snowflake landed on the tip of her nose, capturing her attention just long enough to break the trance of nostalgia. Idalia shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and decided it was time to find Braunches.

  Pushing off the stone, she hopped to her feet, her paws leaving indentations in the ground. Snow crunched underfoot, delighting her with its crispness. She padded along the cobblestone streets, the buildings adorned with ribbons and ornaments now seeming a little less unusual and a bit more enchanting.

  She spat the stone aside just as footsteps approached. Different footsteps, and they belonged to Cheyin. They were lighter, casual, no armor-weight, no court-silliness.

  Idalia's ears swiveled first, then her head followed. She almost did not recognize her at first.

  Cheyin walked out of one of the buildings like she belonged there in an entirely different way.

  Gone were the imperial layers and combat-ready silks. Instead, she wore a loose, fluff-trimmed hoodie with a stylized wave-and-leaf emblem stitched into the chest, sleeves pushed up to her forearms. Comfortable pants, flexible boots. Clothes meant for movement, not ceremony. Her spine-braid was still there, neat and deliberate, but the rest of her hair fell more freely around her face.

  She looked younger like this. And somehow more dangerous. The rabbit-shenlong beast was gone.

  In its place—

  Idalia's pupils widened. "By the warp…?! What is that?"

  Beside Cheyin trotted a creature that looked like someone had taken a very sturdy dog, given it a compact triceratops skull, and then decided it needed a few horns. Its body was low and muscular, hide dappled in earthy greens and browns, tail thick and expressive. A sturdy leash looped loosely around Cheyin's wrist.

  The beast snorted, paws clicking noisily but soft against the stone, and fixed Idalia with one large, suspicious eye.

  Idalia rose smoothly to her feet, tail lifting. "That is not your scarf."

  Cheyin grinned and reached down to scratch the creature behind its crest. "No. This is Doro."

  Doro barked, then growled low in his chest.

  Idalia leaned closer, delighted. "It looks like it would headbutt a mountain."

  "It has," Cheyin said casually. "The mountain lost."

  Doro puffed up at that praise, while Idalia's chest vibrated with a pleased purr. "I like him."

  Doro gasped and glanced between Idalia and Cheyin. "Play?" he asked.

  The moment hung in the air, charged with an anticipation that sparked like the snowflakes around them. Idalia felt a rush of eagerness surge through her.

  "Play?" she echoed, her instincts igniting. The idea of romping in the lovely snow with such a creature was beyond inviting; it was thrilling!

  Cheyin's eyes sparkled with amusement as she hooked her thumb behind her belt. "You like to play? Doro certainly does," she said, glancing at her companion. "But be warned, Ida—he plays hard. He's been known to tackle a tree or two in the name of fun."

  Idalia's tail flicked excitedly behind her. "I'm ready!" She crouched low, feeling the coolness of the snow beneath her paws. "Can he chase?"

  "Chase? Oh, he loves to chase," Cheyin confirmed with a nod, her lips curling into a smirk. "But he's also incredibly fast. Think you can keep up?"

  Idalia felt a surge of competitive spirit course through her. There was something infectious about Cheyin's playful demeanor, and the invitation hung in the air like a delicious morsel begging to be savored.

  She had some doubts swirling in her mind about the imminent duel, of course, but for now, she could let them go and bask in the delight of this moment.

  "Let's see if he can catch me!" Idalia declared, her voice a rich mixture of challenge and glee. Without a moment's hesitation, she took off, bounding through the snow with powerful legs, her heart racing as the world melted away behind her.

  Behind her, she could hear Cheyin's laughter mingling with Doro's deep, rumbling bark, which echoed like distant thunder; though it was nothing like the roar of a Liorex.

  The creature dashed forward, a blur of muscle and energy, its paws pushing effortlessly through the snow, leaving a trail of scattered fluff in its wake. Idalia could feel the rush of adrenaline flooding her excitement as she pushed harder, her instincts guiding her forward.

  A rush of wind filled her lungs as she whipped around a corner, leading Doro into a small clearing sprinkled with shimmering flakes. She turned around, and the moment the creature's head appeared, she darted again, zigzagging through the trees that fringed the square.

  Doro pursued with an eagerness that matched her own.

  As she wandered deeper into the city, with Doro in pursuit, the decorations grew more extravagant.

  Strings of lights crisscrossed overhead, illuminating the path with a magical glow. She could hear music now, soft and cheerful, echoing off the stone walls. The festive atmosphere felt intoxicating, each note wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

  Squeals of laughter mingled with the music, and she leaned down closer to the ground to peek around the corner of a bustling square. There, in the center, a group of children were spinning in a circle, their laughter bubbling over like fresh spring water. Idalia's heart swelled at the sight; they were carefree, blissfully wrapped in their joy.

  With newfound glee, she straightened her spine and stepped boldly into the square. The children turned to her, their eyes wide and sparkling with the joy of discovery. "Look! The Liorex!" one shouted, pointing excitedly.

  "Wow! There's Trikeweiler right behind it!" another exclaimed as Doro bounded into view, his paws kicking up snow in a flurry.

  Idalia's heart soared at the attention, and she couldn't help but puff out her chest.

  "Can we play?" one child asked, her voice laced with excitement.

  "Please! Can we race too?" another chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  "One thing you should know—I'm not just a Liorex!" she called, her voice ringing with playful exuberance. "I'm Idalia the Liorex, and I'd love to play with you!"

  The children gasped, eyes wide.

  Idalia glanced at Cheyin, who stood just outside the square, arms crossed and wearing a bemused smile.

  "Looks like you have an audience, Idalia," Cheyin called, her voice warm and inviting. She made a hand gesture toward Doro, and the triceratops dog wagged his tail, a hazy blur of energy, as he looked to Idalia, anticipating her next move.

  "Absolutely!" Idalia replied, her heart racing with uncontained joy. "Let's have a race! But first, you all must do one thing—! You'll need to watch your tails!"

  With that declaration, she launched herself across the square, snow flying in every direction as she sprinted with all her might. Doro followed, a blur of ferocity and joy, barking gleefully as the children erupted into laughter before chasing after them, their own small feet pounding against the thick layer of snow.

  Suddenly, the space transformed into a playground of pure delight. The air filled with laughter, squeals, and the sounds of snow crunching underfoot as they dashed from one corner of the square to the other, weaving in and out of each other like a flurry of color against the crisp white backdrop.

  Idalia sprinted, feeling the exhilaration build in her chest. She dodged around a vendor cart, its contents spilling vibrant hues—potions, baubles, and foodstuffs that shimmered under the lights—all while she led the youthful crew through the maze of festive decorations. Doro darted beside her, using his natural agility to navigate around any obstacles in his way, encouraging the children to follow suit.

  They twisted and turned through the trees, Idalia leading them on their merry chase.

  "Over here!" she called back, darting through a narrow gap between two tall pines. The children followed closely, their eyes wide as they squeezed between the trees, giggling all the while.

  As they burst into another clearing, Idalia skidded to a halt and turned to face her new friends. "Now we jump!" she said, peering upward. With a powerful leap, she soared into the air, conjuring a {Portal} above her with an excited squeal.

  "Oh goodness, I arrived just in time!" a familiar voice said exasperatedly.

  Footsteps scurried behind her, uneven and hurried. Suddenly, a sinuous, long vine grasped her hind leg, yanking her downward and coiling upward along her chest. Her {Spatial Sight} detected it before her eyes did. The annoying vine that wrapped around her frame—

  It belonged to the spoilsport, Lief!