Several days passed. The snowy mountains and ridges gradually seemed to flatten into the horizon. The trees grew more and more sparse until they vanished completely, and a layer of white snow blanketed the world.
Vast sheets of snow fell from the sky like goose down. The North Snow Tribe's party moved slowly through the thick snow, their Blue-Hoofed Horses like brown worms squirming through a white ocean.
The North Sea lay in the Land of the Far North, a journey of more than a thousand miles. After traveling for nearly half a month, the North Snow Tribe had yet to see any sign of it.
HREEE—
Suddenly, a high-pitched cry carried from the distance. Hunt pulled his reins tight, and the entire party halted in the snow. He tightened his grip on the Cold Iron Spear at his waist, squinting as he peered a thousand meters into the distance. He could faintly make out a crawling, ant-like cluster of color.
"It's people from another tribe."
