The Rime

Hard rime flourished in the trees, transforming the forest into a crystalline chapel. Light streamed through breaks in the cloud-cover, dazzling across the icy ground. The wind was calm, but the cold was brutal, threatening to induce never-ending sleep to any man stopping for too long. The cadre, two women and a man, moved briskly on foot. They had left their horses behind miles before, when the ground had become permanently frozen and forage was no longer viable. Swathed in their heavy white cloaks, layered in coats, three trudged forward. Their packs were lightening daily, but their destination lay north.