Hoshor Plains the fire tests the gold

@Alarian

The world was white and nothing else. Whatever had once grown freely here upon the plains was now crusted with ice, or dead and withered, or flattened to nothingness beneath a deepness of snow that it no longer mattered. In every direction there was white, it was blindingly pristine.

And through the center of the would-be meadow was Aquila, a grim speck loitering like a blemish. A brisk wind picked up as he stood there idling and soon enough, a fresh wave of snow was coating everything. He shook his shoulders and it did no good for him. With a sullen little grunt he ducked his head in to the wind and began to find his way.