Mount Everfall wilted scenes for us who couldn't wait

An ear twitched, twisting and returning to its natural position upon his creamy head. The non-verbal command went unchallenged, though he lingered a moment longer, eyes searching for... something. It eluded them yet, eluded them always and still, they kept their wits and their faith about them and moved onwards.

Falling in step behind his void-like partner, Stjornuati would keep to the trail, noting the weathered path, the quiet that sealed them in the further they moved from the rushing waters to continue their ascension into the heavens. There was a crisp taste to the air, like a finger of ice touched his tongue and spread to infect his throat, the feeling remniscient of their homelands, and the mountains there.

These mountains would catch a fresh fall of snow soon enough, and after that, ice. The vantage point they approached was in its waning prime now and the pale man knew they had arrived at a decent time. Too late and it would have been a cold, desolate hell to try and survive the winter through.