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Light from a gibbous moon shades the landscape grey. The path at the edge of a forest is obscured by snowfall - a slight indentation in a sea of formless white.
"Look there. Stay behind me."
Frozen blood and splintered wood. Stiff corpses lie half-sunken in snow. A caravan of wagons emerge from the gloom, spilling their goods onto the frozen earth.
"Torch," says the daughter.
"Too dark," responds the knight. "Everyone here is long-frozen."
"We need to check. Torch."
"...A moment only. Turn your body away from the trees..."
>ROLL 2d12 + 1[FORGIVENESS] for survivors and discovery, best of 3.
