A small tent of tanned sheep skins provides shelter for guards unfortunate enough to be detailed to this encampment. The shelter is little more than a fly sheet tethered to the ground and doesn't look as if it provides any additional warmth. The remains of a small fire and a scorched tin can lie forgotten in this crude dwelling. Powdery snow drifts are gathering up against the tent and are placing pressure on the poles holding it up. The guard post is quite effectively camouflaged by the snow and would be very difficult to spot from a distance. The sky is black and the stars shine down brightly. The waning half moon shines down. Fluffy white clouds drift lazily overhead.
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