A couple of rocks slipped from the mountainside, rolling through the snow into a steep valley. It was only early morning, but through the dark clouds, laying upon the sky, not a single ray of sun could shift. The white snow, falling from them, was softly landing on the ground, covering the grey stone of mountains with the bright cover.
Blood marks and footprints was all that showed Thranuilas's path through the peaks of the mountains. He limped through the snow, though not falling into it too deep, but he was running out of breath. Climbing mountains wasn't his strength at all... The sharp rocks ripped his gloves and skewed into his skin, and he could hardly find the energy to pull himself up and up again. Even when he managed to climb to the highest point between two hills, he had to slide down.
He stopped to catch his breath. Almost blinded by the snow, he stared into the distance. Beneath him lay a valley, encircled by the steep slopes of mountains. He still had a long distance to crawl down, but he was at the end with his strength. His muscles were aching and the wind was blowing through his damaged clothes straight onto his skin.
Oh gods... It's so cold... How can I even get out of here? I can't keep climbing... He pressed his back to the cliff behind himself, and sled down to his knees. Pulling his legs to his chest, he coiled up in the snow, desperately trying to warm himself up.
It was useless - he was only getting colder, as the snow, melting by his body, soaked into his clothes. This land was as hostile and cruel as death itself...
His eyes closed, embracing a dream, and he fell asleep on the mountainside, half covered by the falling snow.
