OPEN | this winter brings all the cold to the yard

[northcliffpass]

𝕒 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕝

surprise!

I. Snow!

A mere week after the grisly discovery in the Deep Forest and the subsequent dispersal of the eerie spectral visitors, all Northcliff Pass residents wake one exceptionally frigid morning to find themselves buried under several feet of snow. It is of the light and fluffy variety--at least for now--which provides no shortage of entertainment for the village children, and means one is less likely to throw one's back out while trying to shovel it clear of doorways and the streets.

That is your first order of business, as it happens: free yourselves from your wintry entrapment. Or don't, if you've got enough food and drink squirrelled away in your tiny peasant house that you don't need to venture out into the elements. The world is your cold, shitty, socially stratified oyster; ditch your responsibilities, sleep in.

II. Fete! at ye olde tavern

All Souls' Day came and went, and nobody can really be blamed for forgetting about it what with the ghosts and the gloomy business of seeing to the bodies. All that aside the Hammer and Spoke seems especially welcoming that first wintry night, once all the snow shovelling is finished and the streets are clear enough for foot traffic again; lit lanterns glow warmly outside the door, and from within come the sounds of joyful music. Fiddles, whistles, a drum, and plenty of laughter; it seems the snow has stranded a troupe of minstrels in the village, which means at least two or three nights of great fun for village residents.

In truth it will take more than a few nights of drunk mischief to lift the pall cast across the village after the previous month's discoveries, but maybe that's why so many people gravitate to the light and levity and warmth of a party. After such a close call with so much death, it's good to remind oneself that there's joy in the world, too.

III. Cramped Quarters

The nights might be filled with good company, food, and drink, but during the day the village has to contend with another frustration: the roads in and out of Northcliff Pass are closed until the snow melts.

This is a common experience--in late December, January, and February. Not so much in November, when farmers are preparing to take their surplus harvest and livestock down the mountain to Cliffside, or when caravans with schedules to keep to are preparing to head east towards Woodsedge. (The only road clear in that direction is guaranteed to take them past Turn--something no one wants to risk.) Even a few late-season pilgrims have found themselves stuck between Gods' Reach at the summit of the mountain, and the creature comforts of Cliffside below.

There's nothing to be done for it, of course, except to endure the unusually crowded streets, the lack of vacancies at the tavern, and the occasional herd of sheep or goats picketed in very odd places.

Comments

[strumpeting]

This time it's Elena looming over Ben as he struggles in the snow and she lets out a small, sweet giggle. Almost like chasing and serenading a man against his will is a fun little game. Well, it is, but ...

She moves to offer her hand in help but he's already making his way to his feet. Okay, she has to accept it, he's shy. And that's fine.

"All right, all right I'll work on it. But trust me, Ben Carver, everyone in town will have the worm of your song wriggling in their heads before the snow melts!"

She says it like a virtuous promise and less like the threat it probably is.

[engravitas]

He does not take her hand, and in fact seems intent on keeping his entire self as far away from her as possible. Few threats have chilled him to the bone quite like this one has, and it has nothing to do with the cold of the air.

He flees, and can only hope she'll forget.

[strumpeting]

She lets him leave, but not without calling out one last time with a wave.

"A pleasure, Ben the Carver!"

She hugs her arms around her midsection giddily as she watches him go, happy with the prospect of a new muse. So much inspiration to be had in this town! More and more she's glad that she's stayed.

Now, back to business. Specifically, the prospect of throwing snowballs at the door of the constabulary sounds particularly appealing right now.