Whoosh—!
Whoosh—!
The northern winds howled louder than ever, biting through layers of clothing like they were nothing.
The weather in the north was never kind, but tonight, it had turned brutal. The wind had picked up as the night deepened, making the cold all the more unforgiving.
The bandit group, including Bjron, managed to trudge forward without much issue—northerners, after all, were used to this kind of weather. But for the others, those not born in this frozen land?
It was a nightmare.
Inside one of the crude cages carried by two of the bandits, Lila the merchant shivered uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered as she bit her nails—not just from fear, but from the cold that gnawed at her bones.
Fen and Rusk were in even worse condition.
The two mercenaries looked pale, their lips turning blue as the wind sliced through their worn clothes. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, each step more sluggish than the last.
