As impulsive as Peter tended to be, his decision to attempt contact with one of the more well known groups was something he took rather seriously. He'd spent weeks now questioning any loner or trader that had visited before him in hope of gathering as much knowledge as possible. It was a lengthy and rather irritating process, but as he urged his unnamed horse forward through the snow, he began to feel increasingly grateful for doing so.

They weren't kidding when they said it was cold.

That was one of the things he was happy to learn about beforehand. Even through his thick bomber jacket and hoodie, the crisp air still chilled him to the bone. He should've brought gloves.

Peter stared at the snow covered trees in awe for a moment. He'd never seen a place as beautiful as this before. It was peaceful, and a part of him was slightly unnerved at that. All the places he'd ever lived had been rich with chaos, and the land reflected it. But this was different.

More curious now than before, a disturbance in the snow caught his gaze and he squinted to get a better look. It was footprints that disappeared over a hill. Someone had to of been nearby.

Dismounting from no-name clumsily, Peter held the reins tightly and began to follow in the direction of the tracks. Perhaps the lodge was nearby? If what he'd been told was correct, it should be.

"Um, h-hello?"

His voice echoed back to him pathetically. He immediately felt stupid. Was that really the best he could muster?

"Is this Flintlock?"

That was probably even worse. Whatever, he didn't really care anymore. He just wanted to get out of the snow as soon as possible. Peter kept moving forward until a rustle made him immediately stop. His hand flinched towards his belt where his dagger was clasped, but he forced it away. He'd hoped to make a peaceful first impression, after all.