Cold, cold, cold

The ice bridge to the north seemed to be melting, which Kiela hoped meant things were going back to normal. Not that there was really a normal when it came to weather and its cyclical patterns. Mother nature was as unpredictable as it got, but based on her observations - and her infrequent conversations with the wolves that inhabited these parts - things had been unusually erratic. The north was colder than usual, and though it was hardly as bitter as her homelands, she was amazed at how long winter's grasp clung to the lands. By now she expected to see more snow melting, to at least occasionally feel the warmth of the sun struggling to thaw the frozen ground, but she'd experienced little of that; and even further north, where she currently was, it felt like winter was just around the corner again.

She shivered as a gust of wind ruffled her coat, and she braced herself against the cold, her pace picking up. Moving was a surefire way to escape the cold, at least temporarily. Finding some sort of shelter before the sun set was her goal but she wasn't sure how far off she was from it. All she could see before her, stretching toward the distance horizon, was a plain of jagged ice and snow. Taking in a measured breath, she willed herself to continue on. Before her was a desolate expanse, and the sky above was a dreary shade of grey, but the bleakness didn't deter her; such was the life of a true northerner, after all.