The road ahead was a winding expanse of snow-dusted hills and jagged cliffs, each step crunching against frost-laden earth. The frigid wind howled, cutting through the warmest cloaks, and the once-spirited survivors now trudged forward in silence, their breaths visible in the icy air.
The Heartseed pulsed faintly beneath my cloak, its warmth a stark contrast to the biting cold. Its rhythm had grown steadier since we left the settlement, but each pulse brought with it an eerie sense of urgency.
"Keep your eyes sharp," Silvermane said, her voice barely audible over the wind. Her wolves flanked her, their keen noses sniffing the air for any sign of danger.
Ember trudged beside me, flames flickering weakly in her hands for warmth. "I hate the cold," she muttered. "The fire doesn't burn as bright out here."