Mount Everfall wilted scenes for us who couldn't wait

Stjor would rumble in agreement, a sound that rattled the quiet air of the forest; quiet though it may have been, a new sort of silence descended upon them, the sort where smaller creatures knew there was a predator among them. An ear flicked, waiting for a heartbeat or two when the low din of life rose up once more. It would only last so long, however, with the threat of ice and snow on the horizon.

Næturnar eru að verða kaldari. An obvious statement, but one that bore the weight of acknowledgement. Death would reach its bony-fingered grasp even here, should they not find anything suitable.