The path to the Black Wood Forest Outpost was covered in thick snow. Four packhorses exhaled puffs of white mist in the bitter cold, treading cautiously forward.
Arthur pulled his heavy cloak tighter, fine ice crystals clinging to his graying eyebrows and beard.
Twenty years had carved deep lines into his face, but he still held his back straight in the crisp winter air.
"This reminds me of that winter twenty years ago, when Lord Sylvan became the Baron. We traveled to the Black Wood Forest Outpost together in the early summer of that year as well." Luca breathed out a puff of white air and rubbed his red, frozen ears.
He was a few years younger than Arthur, but fine lines had already crept into the corners of his eyes. Only his gaze retained the sharpness of his youth.
