"Our tribespeople are right to look upon me as their leader," you say, "and so long as they continue to do so, they have nothing to fear. By my strength, my intelligence, and the will of the gods, we have made it this far—and I know we can survive what is to come, too. As long as my commands are adhered to, we will all make it through the tundra."
Kral nods and is about to turn back toward the main body of the caravan when a sound of alarm from Drazha makes you both stop. She is pointing ahead, up the snow-covered trail you've been trying to follow. It takes a moment before you realize what has unnerved her.
Peering through the blizzard, you can make out the stone pillars that you have been using to navigate a path through the snow, though now you can only see three more—beyond the third pillar, there is just an expanse of white, marked by the occasional jutting rock. As if to underline your plight, the wind picks up, whipping the falling snow around in a fresh flurry that stings your cheeks. You rein in your horse and call your advisors to you.
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