Trudging through that burning cold. Forward was the only thing Lordy knew.
His Hands Froze, his legs burnt, his arms exasperated by the weight of his treasured greataxe.
It continued to drizzle as it did. The bleeding wouldn’t stop, the trepidation grew worse, the glow. The Damned Glow.
What did it mean?
Lordy kept going. Ever forward; only forward. Away from the merriment, the heat, the inane ramblings and the calling for a feast.
Wind swept his face, cold bleached his eyes- a jaundiced grimace grimed his eyes. Slowly, slowly he was falling.
Falling up the hill.
Ever forward. Only Forward.