The Orange Flame, Grafter
Howling winds echoed above, snowed pines swaying with deep groans. Crunching snow just below them.
Fur boots stomping through the knee high snowed ground. The figure wrapped tightly in hides of animals. A spear acting as a walking stick plucked the snow lightly.
The figure stopped, glancing through the trees. Lights in the distant, looking down they continued their trek. Only acknowledging the creaking symbols tied to the trees, along side the skulls of many ah animal.
Rolling their shoulder they made sure their backpack was sitting right.
As they neared the light, a cabin came into veiw. The snow piled high, ending at the head near the door.
A path cleared through the snow until the figure found their boots touching cracked stone. Their spear clacked on the stone as they approached the house. Taking a moment to pull their glove off and knock.
The thuds were quiet in the howling wind, if not silent.