Today is a bad day for Deluo; nothing seems to be going his way. When the bleak morning sun woke him from the tent, he discovered a layer of ice had formed on his sleeping bag.
"Achoo!" Deluo rubbed his red nose vigorously and then rubbed his cheeks with his palms to make his skin regain its vitality. The biting cold wind excitedly blew in from the corner of the tent, showing off its strength in front of the man, reminding him that this was indeed the coldest time of the year.
The sound of a few horse snorts outside let Deluo know his steed was unharmed. If this last horse fell too, Deluo would have to rely on his own two legs to get to Yim's capital. But most crucially, should such a situation occur, the provisions he carried would definitely not hold out against the severe cold.
