After one night, Feng swore he'd rather die than camp by the river again.
The low-quality branches from the shrubs were useless. They couldn't sustain a fire and had burned to ashes by midnight.
Without the fire for warmth, the temperature inside the tent plummeted.
Add to that the frigid wind that blew from the Ice River all night, and the tent's canvas just shuddered, offering no real protection from the encroaching cold.
The entire tent was like an icebox. Every cubic inch of air was saturated with a biting chill.
Feng and Nash huddled in their sleeping bags, their breath forming pale white clouds in the air. Even wrapped tightly in animal hide blankets, they still shivered uncontrollably.
In the end, the cold became unbearable. One of them hugged Prince and the other hugged Princess, and that's how they barely managed to survive the night.
The moment dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight touched the snow, the two men couldn't wait to pack up their tent.
