Solar Isotoma

Over winds wailing, a voice found itself in Scaramouche’s ear: “Are you lost?”The Balladeer whipped toward the source—an icy outcrop, peeking from behind an easel, eyes piercing teal and phosphorescent.“Not many travelers pass through here in the dead of night,” the figure spoke, keeping his gaze locked on Scaramouche as he etched away at his canvas. “In fact, you’re the first I’ve seen.”“What’s it to you?”“I’m merely curious. To hike up here under stars and snow in such meager garb—your constitution must be formidably strong.”Ah, so this was no ordinary mountain hermit.“The cold doesn’t bother me,” Scaramouche said dryly.“Even the most hot-blooded adventurer will freeze up here without proper protection.”“Thank you kindly for your concern, but I’ll survive.” With a tip of his hat, The Balladeer resumed his ascent up the mountain, fresh snow crunching under his sandals.“I’d like to study you, if that’s alright.”Scaramouche froze in his tracks.