"I'd raise hell if the gods were still alive!" Another man shouted his voice carried along the wind to his friends behind him. Each of them struggled against the wind, yet each managing to keep strong. Over ninty years along the mountain path sat between them, ninty years of knowledge on exactly how to cross this path. However, five lips still trembled, ten shoulders still shivered. "Bastards for making us walk this road on a night like this!" The same man shouted. The group shared a bleak and pathetic laugh. Laughter and high morals kept the cold at bay. 

"Ranor and Bane, scout ahead for the rook." Roran suggested. He lifted one gloved hand to shield his eyes from the snow. "We need to be out of this before it gets worse."

"Gets worse?" Another man shouted. "It can hardly get worse." The group agreed. 

"Regardless, push ahead and find us somewhere to warm and start a fire. Even if it means attracting Wargs." Roran added, handing over his fire starter to Bane. The man was a good four inches taller than Roran, a man perhaps built for such a job. He was tall, stocky and thickly built. Bane nodded and set off at a jog, Ranor following behind, sword in hand. They had each walked this road a dozen times, stepping over the same thick snow, avoiding the same loose rocks and travelling and guarding the same route. In such harsh conditions, all was for naught. On nights like tonight, Cannor didn't expect it's Children to return. 

Roran and the remaining too travellers moved closer together and pulled their cloaks further around themselves. 
"What do you reckon we did to deserve this?" The first man asked, his voice cracking due to lack of hydration. 

"The gods are dead. The mountain runs wild now." Howen added, patting the first man on the shoulder. The each seemed similar in height, leaning over like croons, wise and old. They were distinguishable from most travellers on the road, with their thick black cloaks, fur over clothes, greyed linens and strong Cannor weapons. Their boots were a thick leather, large rims to promote their own ability to walk along the snows surface. 

Time drew on, and the remaining three men hunched further over, shivering and freezing in the cold. In the blur of the snow, a light shone. Yellow, orange and reds burst through the white winds. With a cry of triumph and joy, Roran, Howan and Gilly ran towards the light, joining Bane and Rannor by the fire.