White was the only colour his eyes registered. Wherever he turned, he could see nothing but white. Trees looked like white pillars and legs sunk foots into the ground. To make matters worse, a blizzard blew from the west making it impossible to move towards their destination. The biting cold had already consumed atleast a dozen battle-hardened warriors.
Roran wondered if he had made the wrong decision in accepting to carry out Nasuada’s crazy plan. He wouldn’t have worried so much if it was just him who was going into death, but the soldiers who accompanied him: elves, dwarves, urgals and humans had come on his call. It was his responsibility to take them safely to the other side of the mysterious and dangerous mountain range that was Spine. They had believed him blindly and had offered their help in his scheme to take down Teirm.
“Hey lady, Madhura, could you stop this storm?”, Roran screamed above the howling snow-laden winds to the elf woman who was leading the elven team under him.
“That is impossible, Stronghammer. These winds are nature’s strongest forces. Not even riders can stop such storms.”