2025-12-07 21:49:36 | 人围观 | 评论:

The cold of the winter has been so deep that it is only barely felt. The sun never breaks through to its reflection when it passes over the snow-capped peaks in the distance, leaving little time for growth and plenty of space for decay.
The wind howls as it blows through the snow-scarce valley, bringing with it the scent of cold and the chill of biting air. The sheep at the fence grow colder than ever before, their hooves crunching unevenly and their hair turning gray. The wind howls even more fiercely, tearing at the fabric of your skin like a long knife.
The snow falls in sharp drops on the ground, a grain of ice floating on top of a white patch of snow. The snow flurts out a sound as though it had woken up from sleep, and all around you is a strange blend of silence and a faint howl.
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