Genur.art

Four trails of dirty brown slush come together to form a crossroads. The snow around the paths is powdery soft but covers an underlying layer of last years snow. It is extremely cold here and an icy wind drives off the southeastern plains of the glacier. The wind seems as sharp as steel as it cuts through the flesh of the living to chill their bones and suck out their warmth. A rickety wooden bridge can be seen at the end of the southwest path. It swings wildly in the howling wind that bellows out of the chasm. The sky is black and the stars shine down brightly. The waning half moon shines down. Fluffy white clouds drift lazily overhead.