Chion whistled a bird call, hearing a response after a moment. A wistful smile touched his pale lips; whistling had become his main form of any kind of interaction. He returned to his home, an old manor that had long been abandoned by humans. It was far enough from the mountain pass that no one even remembered it was there anymore. But he saw tracks in the fresh snow leading into his home. He ducked behind a wall, fearful and curious of the interloper now in his home.
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