♡ / @archaictunic
You'd think getting home would be the easiest part of this whole adventure. 'Specially when all they have to do half the time is fall, but of course — of course — it's proving a harder trek than first thought. The snowsquall had appeared with the same sudden intensity all of Hebra's storms like to come in, a force of legitimate nature rather than monster nature, and it's got Tulin wanting to throw or shoot or rip into something. He's just done the most amazing things in the most amazing place with the most amazing person — and he's gotta deal with something like this, now, of all times? Go figure.
He gazes out beyond the maw of the cave they managed to retreat to in the nick of time, feathers puffing as he grasps at the Windlines once more and tries to blow this stupid snow away. He can feel the shape of the path he wants to make along his wings, clearer and more tangible than ever since he took up his ancestor's mission; so when he pushes, he really pushes, and yes, he—
—Blows the stupid snow away for about three seconds. Maybe four.
"Blizzards." He sighs. Secret Stones need to be trained with too, he supposes. Or is it 'cause he's so tired? And hungry? Oof — if he's feeling this awful, how's it like for his companion? Tulin turns to him now, head and wings sagging sheepishly.
"Sorry 'bout this, Link," he says, padding back towards him to flump down by the campfire by his side. A little sack is pulled from his front pouch, thankfully still filled with snips of toasty brightcaps, and he quickly scarfs a few down. Then he reaches for Link open-bag-first, offering. "Snow like this doesn't usually stay 'round for long when it's got no monster behind it...should go away quick!"