Hajin kept his feet planted while the frost pressed beneath the collar he refused to lower.
Warmth beneath his right sleeve kept the cold off his wrist, but every breath still met that pressure.
"Slowly, slowly," he muttered, letting his hips swallow the push trying to shove him backward.
'Walk, the physician said, gentle walks, and this morning wants to pick a fight before lunch.'
Across the hall, several hunters quit pretending their cups needed any more attention.
Yenna's finger struck the parchment, rejecting the answer he already gave her.
"Again," she said, frost crackling beneath her knuckles, "explain how a novice lands royal sponsorship and this equipment before the guild even knows which trade he practices."
He glanced at the official recommendation without reaching to hide it.
She kept going before his silence could turn into a request for her to stop.
