Galemeshi

It had been a while now since the winter had first settled in. Many of Burwell's green hills had become smothered beneath blankets of snow along with a sea of fall's dead leaves. As the sun sank low, its light shone over the ground to illuminate a fine layer of shimmering stars. The world looked soft, crisp, and sleek, but the icicles hanging from the branches of trees and rock ledges lent a cold reminder. Two figures trudged down a path that had been made visible only by muddy wheel tracks. The first, someone who was evidently not adapted to the frigid weather, shivered through his thick bundles of linen and wool as he carried a fairly cumbe