Barrow Fields permafrost giants

He'd wandered until he found himself here, in the distant snow covered mounds to the north. The sea was close by, Corvo could taste it on his tongue, and although he had a hidden desire to see the ocean for the first time in his life, Corvo lingered here, drawn in by something... other. He couldn't place it, the feeling that came over him as he walked this ground, following the rise and fall of each hill that he came to. A graveyard. Surely. He'd never seen nature create a place such as this. Something had made this place. 

A whisper in his ear raised his hackles and Corvo whirled, expecting to find someone there. But there was no one. Just him and the mounds of dirt and the snow and the fog. 

He shook his head and went on. Until he heard something again. His reaction was slower this time, knowing what the result had been previously, but unlike the last time Corvo found another wolf. He was covered in a range of colors from dark to reddish to white, and his eyes were very dark, reminding Corvo of the night sky just after sunset. Who was he? He had no idea. He'd never met this wolf before and he wasn't sure if he should steer clear. Regardless, he'd been spotted by now, surely. So he waited, body tensed for his next move.