Huffing through the cold weather, Ben continued to pull Freya's weight upon the snow. It was easier in comparison to keeping her on the back, especially for how thick she was with wolf pelts.
It's already been half a day since Ben was dragging her down; the rocky path had long ended, and what was left was a long white snowfield and a dark black sky that swirled around the world.
Ben was covered with snow, forming on his light beard and long hair, which were frozen, and his bare legs had turned blue from the cold. But Ben was uncaring. He kept walking in the endless white snow like it was never-ending, without any bump or edge; he was deeply submerged in the cold mirage.
So much had passed in the little time that his mental exhaustion was at its peak. He may appear to be fully conscious and constantly pulling baggage of wolf pelts, but he was simply not there.
'Swishh-clutch!'
