Last night's heavy snow enveloped the entire Island in a layer of white.
Accompanied by the chaotic sound of boots crunching through the snow, a group of people headed out from the small town towards the outskirts.
These people wore somewhat dirty and dark cotton clothes, with scarves around their necks resembling torn rags. They all looked a bit scruffy; not a single one appeared clean or tidy. And they didn't seem to care about their appearance either. They walked with a staggering, careless gait.
Noticeably, nearly everyone was armed, and most of them were human.
The leader, a man with slightly dark skin, looked into the distance. A ferocious scar ran from the corner of his eye down to his mouth, adding an extra layer of menace to his already fierce face. His slightly yellowish eyes, carrying a hint of ruthlessness, darted around in their askew sockets as he observed the surroundings. He seemed to remain vigilant at all times.
