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Three days had passed. As they camped out, Urich dried his shoes and toes by the fire. If your feet weren’t dried in time, frostbite awaited.
With the onset of the proper rainy season, the perennial snow line on the mountains had descended significantly. Even in forests where snow usually wouldn't have accumulated, the snow was thick underfoot.
Crackle, crackle.
The warriors huddled around the fire, making sure it wasn't extinguished by the wind.
"It's cold."
Their lips trembled and teeth clacked together.
"I wonder if they're fighting down there by now?"
"If things are going according to the schedule, they should be clashing by now."
The warriors looked toward the western plains.
The alliance army was supposed to engage in their first battle with the imperial army by name. It wasn't a fight for victory. The purpose was to buy time for Urich and his warriors to reach the Arten outpost and to distract the imperial forces so they couldn't focus on their rear.
“Cough.”
Coughs echoed from the warriors. Many warriors couldn't adapt to the cold. Barbarians from the west were weak to the cold.
Thud.
A warrior collapsed to the ground after coughing for a while. Others shook their heads in resignation and buried their dead comrade.
"Keep yourselves warm."
Urich said it like it was a reflex. Obviously, no warrior was deliberately trying to stay cold. Everyone did their best to keep what little warmth they had and took measures against the cold. Yet, day by day, warriors...
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