On the first day of the return journey, the pair emerged to a Chersonese blanketed in snow. The shoddy tents that provided enough shelter for them to prepare their venture underground just 5 days prior were now half buried, and even if Perry conjured their magical Spark to melt the snow the tents would be unusable.

“Out of the frying pan…”muttered Perry with a pained grimace.

He knew they couldn’t camp underground a day longer; not near the constructs of lightning and obsidian.

A trek across the Chersonese in Winter didn’t sound much nicer.

He flicked his hand upright and a small flame burst forth in his palm, melting a pile of nearby snow. The slight raise in the blanket there was enough to identify their old campfire. The wood, now visible, was sodden through.

“It’ll take time and Mana to breathe any life into this camp as it is.”

He spoke louder this time, and his adventuring partner took this as invitation to brainstorm options.

Baba, a younger adventurer than Perry who had yet to make the trip to Conflux Mountain for Mana, lurched herself out of the mouth of the cave. Every step was heavy with exhaustion, not aided by her over-full pack of loot.

“I can barely move as it is. In this snow, this far from Cierzo? Shouldn’t we just make them wait another week? Camp inside?”

What would be logic to Baba was unthinkable to Perry. His blood price was too high to disappoint the people of Cierzo any longer. Duty came before logic, even if that meant death came before success.

“Baba, we came here for the power core…”

Perry had turned away from the snow-stricken vista to face Baba at the cave mouth, and spoke sternly.

“…we cannot delay.”

“Well,” retorted Baba “we can’t continue either. At least, not unless you want to carry all this?”

With a shake of her hips the huge bag on her back rattled and clanged, before Baba managed to straighten her back and stand upright.

Perry sighed and crossed his arms.

“You know I can’t. You haven’t made the trip to Conflux Mountain, you won’t understand the toll Mana takes on a body. I can’t carry as much as you.”

“Oh, and here I thought it was your age” Smirked Baba.

The two paused a moment, before Perry smiled weakly and placed a hand on Baba’s shoulder. He pointed her away from the cave.

“We need to go down the slope here, the way we came. We know it’s a shallow path and the snow won’t be covering anything dangerous.”

Baba was observing well enough, but she didn’t appreciate the added weight on her shoulder. Perry wasn’t just leaning on her to plan a route, she thought.

“From the bottom of the hill we head north. It’s the quickest way to Conflux Mountain, which we circle clock-wise until we see the ravine to Cierzo”

It sounded so simple, and from their vantage point on the side of the eastern hills they should have been able to see the whole journey before them.

The reality of Chersonese winter is far harsher, however.

What would normally be a vantage fit for even a Levantine cartographer was now simply a way to see more snow. The covering left details obscured, paths just a memory, slopes invisible and dangers hidden. The winds of the Chersonese drew misty clouds around Conflux Mountain, rushing over the unique purple grass that fed on the Mana below the landmark. In the deeper valleys, the winds were silent from being cut off by the steep hills of eastern Chersonese.

The road home would take them through the stillness of the freezing cold and the violence of the rushing wind, but there was no other route.

Baba took a swig of water, luckily purified using Perry’s Spark and some equipment “borrowed” from the obsidian elementals below. The usually salty, or worse corrupted, water of the Chersonese would not befit a journey of this magnitude. She passed the leather pouch to Perry, who took a small sip before screwing the lid shut.

Baba could have addressed him then. Could have asked why he hid his exhaustion and leant on her, why he drank so little.

She didn’t.

“There’s no point waiting, Baba” Perry said as he stepped downwards onto the sloping path to the base of the eastern hills.

Baba tied the water-skin to her backpack, alongside her oil lamp (that was parched of oil), and set off in Perry’s footsteps. Literally, because any energy Baba could save for hauling and survival would add up over the 3 day journey.

The trip down the slope was almost pleasant. It wasn’t actively snowing, and once the pair had gone just 50 meters or so the winds were cut off by the looming hill behind them. The descent also gave them a chance to see the Chersonese more clearly.

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