The storm raged as George led the group, struggling up the mountain through snow and biting wind. The weather had worsened since they left New Haven, and now it seemed intent on swallowing them whole. The snow came down in thick sheets, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Each step felt heavier than the last as the frigid cold seeped into their bones.
George squinted through the blinding snow, trying to stay focused. His hands were numb, his fingers barely able to grip the rifle slung over his shoulder. He glanced back at the others, their faces drawn tight with exhaustion. Raven, as always, was in the lead, her katana strapped to her back. She moved with a grim determination, even as the snow whipped around her. Lucy followed close behind, her shotgun held ready, though the fierce wind made aiming almost impossible.
