“How the hell did it get so cold in just two days, anyways?”

“Because of the elevation. Probably. We are pretty high now when compared to those forests.”

“But we aren’t even past the lower parts of the mountains yet. All of this snow so suddenly… Not natural, I tell you.”

“Stop questioning nature, okay? Shit just happens. It’s not like we can do anything ‘bout it.” The undead man's voice didn't sound very enthusiastic.

Ehrir shot a sharp glance at the albino and Zaster. Their senseless argument had turned the otherwise calm walk into an annoyance of phenomenal proportions. The root of it, as in most bad and boring discussions, lied in the weather.

It was somewhat crazy in the last couple of days. It was lightly snowing for hours on end. The nights were starless, frigid and ridiculously dark. There was some kind of heavy atmosphere haunting the air, although everyone was calm and relatively happy, albeit worn-out and tired by the long days of travelling. The old man and Salelia planned to stay in the mountains and rest for a little while once the group got a little bit higher. Yet the progress through the chaotic landscape of hills, cliffs and forests was significantly slowed by the snowfall. Today it got to the point where the two leaders of the party discussed whether or not they should try to change their path or set up a more temporary camp.

In the south such amounts of snow were surprising for this time of the year, even in the lower parts of the mountains. Nalia was surprised by It. And that spoke volumes.

“See, this just doesn’t feel right” she told him the previous morning after throwing a quick curse towards her horse for not being fast enough. “Maybe it’s common in your homelands… Hell, it sure is, you’ve told me that already.”

In contrast to the others among the group, the Undone One felt the whitened, chilly surroundings as suiting and ordinary. He was used to long, unforgiving winters. He almost died because of the coldness of the nights when he was homeless. That happened numerous times, too. His toes still bore the scars caused by the few times when he got frostbitten. But even with all his experiences with frigidness and cold, he still was surprised by the current situstion and could barely stand it in his fur cloak.

That was yesterday. Today he was dressed better and warmer. The others were, too, and that made them talkative and helped to remain in high spirits. It probably did its fair share for the talk between Zaster and the albino to start in the first place.

Ehrir continued walking forward, his mind full of vague thoughts and chaotic memories playing in no particular order. This continued for well past an hour. Meanwhile his legs sank deeper and deeper into the growing layer of snow. When the group finally stopped for lunch, the Undone One was already pretty tired and a bleak expression hanged on his face. The others weren’t looking much better – the smiles and cheerful voices from the morning were gone, replaced with dark grimaces and low, half-mumbled whispers. The weather was lowering their mood significantly. They ate in silence that created an oppressive sensation in Ehrir’s soul. No one really wanted to continue the journey until the early winter befallen the land went away. Salelia and Sevrian saw that wish easily and proceeded to go for a walk while discussing something in low voices. The Undone One and the others were left alone in their tents with pieces of cold dried meat, fish and black bread. The slices of salmon were so thickly covered in salt in order to be preserved that even a few bites managed to open cracks on the people's lips. Except for Zaster, of course – the undead didn’t feel any kind of hunger. His body (understandably) didn’t desire food, either. He was easily compensated by the guards – each of them could easily devour a whole bread and a dozen pieces of meat. It was understandable – almost all of them were big, heavy-built muscular men, except for one who was skinny and short, but compensated for this with his precise marksmanship. Still, the way they destroyed the group’s supplies was worrying. The older sorcerers could always make some food with Manipulation, but Ehrir heard that such a meal had a terrifying taste, to say the least. Varhel just shook his head in a grim manner when somebody mentioned it, and the albino’s clean face, usually lighter than a birch’s bark, became almost grey.

“You’re lucky that you haven’t tasted it”, he hissed while shaking his head. “It usually looks delicious, but it’s no better than a handful of dirt once you put it in your mouth. I had to endure about two weeks of just that when I was younger. I thought abandoning the whole group after it all… Slitting my throat is a better option compared to experiencing it again.” His words were clearly exaggerated. Tethering, his face was also far from cheery.

Quietly and almost without anyone noticing, the lunch turned into a slow crawl of time through the afternoon. There wasn’t even a hint of continuing to travel again. After a couple of hours the old man and the witch arrived from their walk. When the two announced that the group won’t go anywhere more for the day, smiles bloomed again on the faces of the disciples, and a very happy kind of curse left Nalia’s lips. Even the guards with their stone-carved faces smirked a little upon hearing the news. They still had to watch over the tents during the night, but the tiresomeness from the long hours of walking before it were spared.

The bright hours quickly went by and faded away into nothingness, leaving a heavy curtain of snow-filled darkness to cover the world. To make a fire out in the open wasn’t anywhere near possible, mainly due to the unforgiving winds. Instead, a ball of warm magical light was made in every tent in The camp. They were produced by Sevrian and gave off immense amounts of warmth, although the old man mentioned that it isn’t easy to hold a large numbers of the things up persistently. With them the group didn’t have the need of a fire. The dinner consisted of the usual cold meat.

It was hard for Ehrir to sleep during that night, regardless of his wish to do so. Nobody in his tent was truly tired. On top of that they were all curious or energetic (or both) and made enough noise to distract the Undone One from reaching the dreamlands he longed for. The bright rays of the light source didn’t made it any easier. When the branded youngling took out a deck of cards around midnight and started playing with Varhel, Ehrir just got up and joined in, too. The others quickly explained him the rules, but that didn’t made him much better at it. At least they didn’t bet large sums of money… For about an hour, at least.

On the morning – the cold light hurt Ehrir’s unrestful eyes – he was poorer with a whole damned handful of silver coins. The albino (his name was Grion or something in that vein), who didn’t participate in the card game, just looked at the Undone One's bitter expression with a subtle grin.

“Don’t worry, man.” A copper coin was dancing between his fingers. “I’ll buy you a drink or two when we get to an inhabited place, I promise. You deserve this much for your bravery… Seriously, though, don’t play against this guy anymore.” He nodded sharply towards the branded boy, who smiled as an answer. “He’s either cheating or is abnormally good. I couldn’t beat him… And I cheat, too.”

The last line made his grin go away, replaced by a face showing tarnished pride and envy.

“I don’t cheat, you blockhead.” The boy’s scars and brands twisted because of his playful smirk. “You just don’t play good enough, even with cheating. I can teach you, though.”

“That would be like stepping on my pride with a pair of iron-clad boots, you weirdo.” The albino’s words were full of cheerfulness despite their offensive tone.

The two of them continued to argue and insult one another in a friendly way while breakfast lasted. The party wasn’t planning to go anywhere today, either, although the snowfall had slowed down significantly. Everyone could enjoy a long and lazy morning.

Still, the leaders of the group wanted to investigate the surrounding area, but the guards were too few to quickly walk search it in bigger groups. The apprentices had to step in, Ehrir included. Sevrian himself came to bring them the news and assign them into trios and duos. There was at least one defender in addition to every one of those amateur scout gangs. Ehrir got together with Zaster and the branded boy, along with a bearded, clad in leather guard with dirty, long grey cloak and worn-out battle axe. He didn’t really talk much, except for a cold welcome and a few short words of advice before they left the camp. From then on he communicated mostly through sudden gestures and low, animalistic grunts.

The area around the tents was a deserted, sad-looking place. The sudden snowfall had made the leaves of the trees fall off in the course of a couple of days, marking the white veil covering the earth with a stains of orange and red. It was as if the ground was bleeding onto the snow mantle above. An unsettling thought, but the sight was strangely beautiful, nonetheless.

The Undone One and his comrades had to cover a distance of roughly thousand steps east. For the first half of it there was nothing spectacular to be seen. Only the landscape got more and more rocky, with high cliffs, steep hills and deep ravines making it harder to navigate. Then things changed.

There was some kind of aura in the part of the forest they stepped into after the halfway mark. It wasn't a pleasant aura, either. Some undefined kind of threat lurking around made Ehrir's hair stand up. There weren't any actual signs of such a thing - no marks in the snow or on the nearby trees, no corpses of animals gutted and laying around. Even the small stream they encountered flowed crystal clear and icy cold.

"There is... I can't put it into words. A vague, unnatural sensation, let's say." Zaster looked around, his face devoid of emotion. Even the guard gazed at the environment while steadily holding his axe. The branded boy didn't utter a word, but his expression was worth a whole scroll.

***

It came from the bushes unexpectedly and after a couple of minutes. It was a somewhat humanoid silhouette with thick white pelt covered in small but numerous brown and black markings. Its claws - as long as an opened male's palm - were drippling in blood after just a second. It ran off with spectacular speed and its prey in hands and was nowhere to be seen after a blink of an eye.

Ehrir felt the color leaving his face and every muscle twisted by his shocked expression.

"Shit...", the guard managed to muster before falling in the snow. His right arm was missing. It was replaced a wound from which blood gushed out. It painted the ground beneath him in a wine-like, intense color.