The ruthless night of the North had descended upon the desolate streets of Frosthelm like a shroud.
The wind whistled through the narrow alleys blowing the accumulated snow masses on the roofs and covering the air with white dust.
Cassian lay curled up on the wooden bench in his thin clothes.
The cold no longer burned his skin; on the contrary it had begun to turn into a dangerous and numbing warmth.
While his mind wavered between his regrets and his plans his tired body finally gave out and surrendered him to a restless shivering sleep.
The concept of time had melted away in the cold. He didn't know how long he had been there. Minutes? Hours?
The only thing he knew was an increasing weight upon him.
In the middle of the night a massive mass of snow breaking off from the roof of the building right next to him piled right on top of him with the help of the wind.
"Pffft!"
