The cliffs that rose from the land were jagged and crumbling, their edges sharp and unforgiving with sharp, long, frozen ice, stronger than any human or werewolf bond.
On a road carved from the cliff, a large group of people pulling large carts moved slowly, their figures barely visible against the vast white wasteland. The carts, weighed down with supplies and gear, creaked with every lurching movement, their wheels grinding against the rough, frozen ground. The people themselves were bundled tightly, their faces obscured by scarves and hoods, leaving only their eyes visible, which glinted with a mix of exhaustion and determination.
