Genur.art

The trail ends at twelve stubby rocks have been placed in a circle. The snow swirls over them in flurries and nearly covers them in drifts of white powder. The pitch black rocks are badly weathered into blunt shapeless forms. Around here a flat plain of ice extends as far as can be seen. It looks like the rocks are taking a beating from the wind and snow that whips through them in chaotic twists of whistling air. The sky is black and the stars shine down brightly. The waning half moon shines down. A few scattered clouds dot the sky.