Before he follows, Shisui takes one more look out the cold glass, and shivers. He can hear the floe grinding against the surrounding ice, an eerie, disconcerting sound, like a massive beast growling in the darkness. The howl of the wind is a high, lonely counterpoint, a forsaken sound, and Shisui grits his teeth and forces himself to ignore it. He’ll get used to the sound someday. He won't have a choice.