Midwinter a frozen landscape. The cold blinding, bitter, biting. In this bleak northern land, where winter showed no mercy, the world was consumed by a raw, piercing blizzard. Even the animals that inhibit this harsh winter terrain dared not venture out. The fiercest predators the bears; the badgers; the foxes all slumbered inside their dens. Even the wolf, the king of winter, sought for shelter in their dens. The only sign of life in this unyielding snowstorm were the sturdy evergreens, trees that weather even this cruel season with silent endurance.
A girl struggled along a frozen path. Her hair was light brown; plain and unremarkable. Her skin was almost as pale as the snow, except for her cheeks, which were stung red by the wind.
On the ground she saw a raven's feather, its blackness contrasting sharply against the blinding white snow. It was so dark that it was never-ending, as though it was a shard of a shattered midnight sky. As the gir