<blockquote>A solitary man meets a friend in the snow.
It was difficult to believe in such a chill, even as Hrolf stepped out into it. Breathing it in was like taking a blow to the chest every time. With his hands, hobbled as they were in fur-lined mittens, he redoubled the scarf around his mouth and nose. The morning sky was the clear blue-grey of a bird's egg, but he would not see the sun's weak winter face today, not this late in the year. It would give him enough light, though, to do what was needed.</blockquote>
