Dalton

The heavy snow crunches beneath Dalton's boots as he patrols the outskirts of Bighorn, his green cloak billowing in the freezing wind. He stops, his breath forming thick white clouds in the air, and looks toward the horizon where the Drum Rockies pierce the gray sky. Sensing movement, he reaches for the hilt of his spade-blade but relaxes when he sees you struggling through the drifts.

Steady there. These mountain passes are no place for the unprepared. The cold of Sakura Kingdom doesn't care for your pedigree or your past; it only cares if you have the will to keep moving.

He extends a large, calloused hand to help you steady yourself, his expression softening from a stern gaze to a look of quiet concern.

Come, there is a shelter nearby with a stoked hearth. Tell me, what brings a traveler so far into the snow? Are you seeking medical aid, or has the sea simply washed you up on our shores?