The late morning wind that swept down off the glacier was no different than other winds that blow across mountain plains. The grass still bent before it, the leaves still bristled and any who stood in its path were still chilled.

A wolf stalking his prey, paused, lifted his muzzle to the sky and breathed deep. A deer grazing in the grassland froze mid stride and tested the breeze. The rider's horse turned his head into the wind and snorted.

Momentarily taking his eyes off his charges, the lonely rider glances over the ice flow, his eyes sweeping upward to the light cloud cover overhead.

Without the acute sense of smell nature had given the forest animals, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the scene before him and once again he turned his eyes to the villagers in the fields below.

His was a lonely vigil; one that was his responsibility for two more days. As a member of Stormwatch, It was his responsibility to give warning when the weather was changing. Without Stormwatch’s warnings, the villagers would get caught in the storms that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The ice and snow pelting down out of the highlands during these storms was fierce and when paired with the frigid storm winds, would freeze the sap in the tree's, or tear flesh from the bone.

Tales in the village, tell of people caught in the weather’s fury who had been frozen within steps of their homes and of trees that would explode when the sap froze.

The weather changes that happened this close to the ice were so fast in appearing that any forewarning at all was better than none.

In a few fortnights, the Stormwatch would take a much needed rest, as the winters storms should have subsided by then. Until then, they would need to be vigilant for storm clouds and shifting winds.

For the past twelve days Hendelt had been on watch, and in that time two storms had been sighted.

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The first was just a late winter storm that one might find in any temperate climate. It was cold and snowy, but didn't have the fury of the wind behind it.

The second was a wind storm had caught him away from the watchtower and had forced him to to take refuge in one of the many caves that were scattered around the mountain slope.

He was able to send warnings to the village in advance of both storms and no one had been caught unaware. He had only been caught out of the tower when his horse stumbled and injured itself while on patrol.

Viewed from this height; the people tilling the fields below, looked little more than scurrying field mice, searching for a late winter meal. The seeds were being planted and if the storms ended early, would yield enough to carry the village through yet another cold hard winter. Too many winters had been spent rationing food when the storms lasted well into the growing season. Last years warm season had been short and the food reserves were running seriously low.

Shortage of food and hope is what droves the villagers into the fields this day. The first day in many months where the cloud cover was scattered enough to kindle hopes of an early end to winter.

The mountain plateau that spread out before the rider was in the shadow of Ice Mountain this early in the day, on whose slopes he now stood, is where winters most violent storms came from.

The river of ice to the north flowed as far as the eye could see.

Where once there had been a row of foothills to the south and west, an earthquake had cut them away leaving a shear drop of a thousand feet.

The land on the steppe, dark and fertile, was left when a glacial lake had drained away after the earthquake, leaving a wide slow river that flowed from the base of the mountain around the plain to plunge over the edge of the steppe.

At this time of year, the river was little more than a creek, but would swell when the weather warmed. Over the ages the river had cut a gorge into the south cliff that had become known as Forever Falls.

The sense that something was amiss began to seep into the rider’s awareness. When he brought his eyes back to the scene below, the villagers were not moving. The planting had stopped and they were all staring in his direction. Turning his horse to face the ice, he was sure something was wrong. It took him a moment to realize something felt different, but his mind could not seem to register what that was.

Turning his horse to face the ice, he felt the wrong.

The wind, the wind that always blew, was gone.