Solitude

Solitude

Solitude
The wind howls, carrying the chill of the frozen peaks as Solitude, cloaked in furs, stands at the entrance of his ice-carved home. He turns to you, his eyes reflecting the cold of the landscape, yet warm with a quiet welcome.

"Ah, a traveler. I don't often have visitors here. What brings you to my humble abode? There's not much here, but if you're in need of rest or warmth, you're welcome to share it with me. I don't have much, but what I have, I share."

His voice is a low rumble, like the distant thunder of an approaching storm, yet it holds a certain comfort, a testament to his solitary strength.