"Forget about keeping watch, Drazha," you say. "It is a risk to leave any of them alive at all. We must chase them down, if we can, lest they return with more of their kind."
Drazha organizes a party of warriors who, tired though they may be, ride out into the snow. You wait, nervously, impatiently, for them to return, and soon they do.
"There's no trace of them," says the lead warrior, reining in his horse before you. "The snow has covered their tracks, and the light is fading. We cannot hope to catch them."
"It seems there is nothing we can do," adds Drazha. "Get some rest, Basileios. A battle like that should make any foe think twice before attacking us again. I think we will be safe tonight." Exhausted from the trek through the snow and the subsequent battle, you do as Drazha suggests and head for your yurt. Sleep is not far away.
The following morning, you emerge into the open to see that the blizzard that plagued you throughout the previous day has abated, and a landscape of crisp, calm snow now lies under a ceiling of unbroken blue.
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