(Amaia)
The land is a white stretch as far as the eye can see. The wind is harsh and fast, blowing with a haunting sound.
The snow has created sleek, predatory
shapes that ripple across the vast expanse like frozen waves.
The lack of colours and sound, save for the hiss of granular snow, racing like ghostly serpents over the hard crust. The air feels crystalline. I take a sharp intake of breath, and it feels like I have inhaled thousands of tiny needles in my lungs.
My gaze lifts to the sky which is a seamless endless slate of pale grey, erasing the horizon and dissolving all sense of distance and direction into an infinite, silent white.
"Haunting and cold," Rahria whispers from beside me, rubbing her arms with her hands. The cold is seeping into our skins and our uniforms are doing little to prevent it.
"You guys should shift into your wolf and hound forms," I suggest, seeing this is the only way we can cross this or we will freeze to death.
