The mornings in the North as unwelcoming as its landscape, the air bit at Aribelle's fingertips and nose. It nipped at her exposed skin in an attempt to dissuade her from progressing any further along the path, she ignored its peevish foreboding as she trod steadily onward. The soil damp from the persistent grizzle that seemed constantly present over the Castle grounds, each step was announced by a loud squelching.