Frost Bites - Part Two

None of the villagers offer much besides tall tales and dubious looks to what the foreigners are wearing. Either they're naturally suspicious of the strange motley of individuals or have been instructed to be pleasantly distant. And if anyone takes a peek at those rather well-made grey harpoons they've got stacked within their shelters, a family member is summoned to move them to another room or toss a tarp over them.
The long trek requires blazing a trail through snow drifts that are layered upon uneven terrain. Deceptively soft looking as the snow is, when the wind carries it into a fierce enough gust, it can sting the eyes and exposed skin. And it's so very cold out. It is anyone's guess how much bearable it is during the daylight hours. The stars above shine like pinpricks in the void. A few of the constellations match those of certain patron elemental spirits respected by the village's shaman and some of its more talkative residents of Alornerk (oddly enough some of the others called it Pattangayok rather dismissively).
Some sort of blizzard is definitely in store for the group, making visibility poor and stumbling into crevices more likely. The sound of the wind howling between the mountain peaks has curious tonal qualities, as if there was something nearby that was hollow or porous.

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