Permafrost Slumber

Chapter 1

Two figures traverse the desolate arctic landscape, one of them carries a sizable backpack while the other is lugging a heavy-looking object wrapped with cloth and shaped like an oversized crucifix lagging ever so slightly. Perhaps it's the weight of the object, but it is most likely the rebellious fur cloak that spends more time snapping in the wind as it refuses to stay properly wrapped and ward off the cold. The dim daylight makes the atmosphere seem colder than it already is. Their bodies are tightly wrapped in thick fur and leather clothes, their heads are covered with hoods lined with thick fur, and scarves are wrapped around their lower jaws to ward off the cold that might find its way into the crevices of their exposed collars. Despite all this protection, their steps are labored as the headwind mercilessly assaults them and hinders their advance. Snow and ice crunch beneath their boots as they slowly and stoically make their way across the desolate landscape. In some places, the snow is deep enough to bury their feet to their knees, in other places it's frozen so much that it hardly overtakes their shins; either way there's no telling what hides beneath the pristine snow so their steps must be taken with caution.
All of a sudden, a fierce gust kicks up and knocks off the hood covering one of the figures' head revealing a crimson-red mess of hair fiercely ruffled by the wind and assaulted by snowflakes. The person temporarily stops to pull the hood over their head and momentarily looks behind as it readjusts the hood. The person lagging doesn't stop walking and takes a moment to look forward, a pair of blue-colored eyes peeking from beneath the rim of the hood.

???: You could have left that behind on Hyperion. It's slowing you down too much.

The blue-eyed companion straightens up as it hooks its left hand around its shoulder and affectionately pats the fabric wrapped around the object and says with a hint of cheer in its voice:

???: How could I? The Oath of Judah needs regular, daily, maintenance and no one was willing to take care of it. And it's not what's slowing me down.

The person takes another step and all of a sudden the snow swallows the foot to the knee, slightly throwing the person off balance for a moment as it quickly pulls its foot back out of fear.

???: It's this darned snow!

A sudden gust whips around the person's cloak, adding to its frustration as it swings its arms around trying to grab the cloak and wrap it around its body before all warmth is lost to the cold.

???: And this darned cloak that won't cooperate with me!

With a little bit of effort, the red-haired person manages to readjust its hood and says:

???: I distinctly recall you taking a very long and careful look in the mirror as you tried it on and said how good it looks on you. How the Victorian style of the clothes brings out a noble air carefully hidden in the Kaslana bloodline no doubt.

Although it can't be seen because of the scarf, the red-haired person smirks and musingly adds:

???: You even did a pirouette. My Lady Kallen has good taste.

Kallen leans down all of a sudden and in a quick, smooth, motion scoops up snow in both of her hands, balling it into a fist-sized snowball, and throws it at her companion with good precision aiming straight between the eyes. But the headwind foils her well-calculated throw, as it slows down the snowball, throws it off its intended course, and allows her companion a timely dodge by effortlessly leaning sideways to the left allowing the snowball to pass by harmlessly.

Kallen Kaslana: You didn't say anything about this weather! You only said that it was very cold! If I knew about this wind I wouldn't have taken it with me. Any good "Captain" takes care to tell others about small details like this.