A teenager on the cusp of adulthood sits in the snow with tears streaming down his face. His curly black hair whips in the wind. Blood slowly trickles from a cut across his cheek. The cut is stained with a dark oil.

Before him is a workshop that’s burning down. Inside are the experiments of his father and the siege weapons they crafted. Along with three bodies of hunters. Out in the snow blood seeps into the earth. Another hunter's body lies nearby.

Next to the teen is the corpse of his father. He slowly removes his fathers helm. An iron casing with slits for eyes and a brim above them to keep snow out of his vision. The teens body tenses and he grinds his teeth as he sees the blank and open eyes of his father.

“I’m sorry dad.” He says. “I won’t let the Burkwoods die.”

The young Burkwood pulls the metal helmet on before he leaves the clearing between his fathers workshop and their house. He loads up his fathers weapons and some supplies onto a sled. This includes his fathers blunderbuss, preloaded cartridges, a medium sized ballista, and a few bolts. All together the cart and supplies weighed close to five hundred pounds.

Burkwood mutters an incantation that lightens the load before grabbing the reins of the sled and dragging it away from the property.

The teen took one last look at his childhood home where his father had raised and trained him. There was little left for him here and no safety from the hunters if they discover what happened. His best chance was leaving now and getting as much distance as possible.

Burkwood looked up at the sun above him and the surrounding mountains. He aimed his body in the direction of the nearest town and began his march.

Burkwood drags his sled across the snowy wastes and into a forest, many of the trees were knocked over, branches snapped off of others, and scars through the land. Something large, or several things, had come through the forest.

Traveling through the forest, Burkwood arrives at a low stone wall. He finds an entrance and explores what is protected by the wall. Finding a hot springs inside the stone wall Burkwood had a moment to rest and relax.

Burkwood rested his body in the springs. Relaxing. Spreading his arms against the stone as he closed his eyes. His muscles ached and bruises had formed across his nose, left eye, and around his shoulders.

He jumped up as something sharp pierced his arm. A small insect with a large stinger quickly scurried away. Burkwood washed the wound, dried off, got dressed, and continued on his way. As he walked his arm grew numb. He checked the wound and there was a three inch diameter red circle that had become inflamed and swollen.

Burkwood entered the broken forest once more and continued traveling. The forest became sparser and sparser as he traveled.

The teen finally exits the woods and starts to pull his sled through a marsh. The travel is slower as he navigates around bodies of ice. There is no telling how much weight they can hold and how deep the water below is.

Stepping through some tall reeds Burkwood hears a metal click before the teeth of a bear trap slam around his leg. One of the teeth breaks off, another bends, as they hit the front metal plate above his ankle. The teeth in the back sink through the leather padding into the back of his ankle.

Burkwood pulls the trap open, lifting his leg out of it, and tossing it to the side. The teen continues to pull his sled and presses on through the marsh.

Burkwood begins limping, the blood around his wound has frozen. The skin is blue. The teen must make camp to rectify the situation before it kills him.

Burkwood stays in the marsh resting for the night, cleaning his wounds, and bandaging them.

The next day Burkwood hears the crashing of the northern giants in the distance as he reaches the end of the marsh. He pulls the sled around into a large thicket, staying low, as he continues on his way.

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In the thicket Burkwood finds a tunnel dug through the packed earth underneath the snowy thickets. He drags his sled through the tunnel finding multiple paths, but one large enough for his sled. And as far as he can tell, while underground, it goes the way he needs it to. As he enters the dark tunnels he lights up a torch.

“Hey you!” A voice calls out from a side tunnel.

Burkwood whips around facing the voice. He spots a man holding a lantern. It’s a half orc with small tusks and a few furs draped over him. He has a field dressed deer over one shoulder and a bow over the other.

“I don’t know you. Where’s your hunter’s sigil?” The man calls out, not stepping any closer.

“I’m not a hunter.” Burkwood says calmly.

“How old are you? What are you doing out here?” The hunter questions.

A scratching sound comes from above. Both the hunter and Burkwood look up. Dirt starts to drift down. Dust fills the air.

“Did they find us?” The half orc’s voice is shaky as he speaks. .

A massive hand bursts through the roof of the tunnel. Grabbing the half-orc, and dragging him out of the hunter’s underground hideout. Burkwood is stunned as he hears a scream and the snapping of bones.

Two deep voices speak to each other for a brief moment. Then two sets of giant hands began digging out the roof of the tunnel in either direction.

Burkwood mutters his incantation to lighten his load, making sure it’s not going to give out at an inopportune time before he drags his sled with all his might. He stays ahead of the giant digging out the tunnel. Digging his feet into the ground Burkwood moves as fast as he can. Eventually escaping the giant as it gives up on finding more prey.

Burkwood emerges from the tunnel and continues traveling through the snowy woods. Eventually finding himself in a snowy glade. There are two graves with weathered headstones that are unreadable.

With the amount of people who die in the North it still surprising the teen to find graves. So rarely was time or energy wasted on the dead.

Dozens of white moths fluttered about the grave site. His father had told him stories about Ancestor Moths that were attracted to the last resting sites of spirits.

The teen continues on his journey. Passing over several hills swarming with a burrow of lemmings. Burkwood sets some of his rations down for the burrow as he passes through their territory and says a small prayer for them. Not to any specific deity, but to nature and the forces that guide the balance between the worlds of man and animals.

Burkwood finds his next step crashing down into the entrance of a burrow. When he finally wrestles his sprained leg free his shoe did not come with it. After some struggling the teen abandoned his buried boot.

The teen continues traveling until he arrives at a flowing river. Upstream water and ice is cascading down a beautiful waterfall. With the sun hitting it just right the natural landmark becomes a vibrant display.

Following the river Burkwood finds a Ford hides by banks of snow and trees. He throws his supplies over his shoulder and drags the sled across the shallow river passing. The weapons and some of his supplies can get wet without much worry. But his clothes, blankets, and food need to stay dry.

Burkwood here’s a twig snap as he crosses the Ford. A few leaves fall and the teens eyes draw upward as a snow leopard leaps at him.

The leopard leaps onto him and rakes it’s claws down the teens chest as they tumble into the snow.

Burkwood manages to keep a handle on the situation, kicking the panther off him, and grabs his fathers blunderbuss. The teen flicks his hand and the head of the ballista turns to face the leopard.

“You fucked with the wrong mage!” Burkwood yells.

The ballista fires at the beast. It flies through the head of the beast puncturing through its body like a skewer.

Burkwood falls to his knees. His vision is obscured by his own breath as his body rattles from the cold. It seeps in through his wet feet and his wounded chest.

The teen starts to make camp. Lighting a fire. Field dressing the snow leopard before putting it on a spit. He banadages his own wounds and changes his clothes.

Burkwood wakes up the next day. He fills up on leopard and rations. Fills his canteens. Reloads his ballista. And carries on towards the village he’s been desperately trying to reach.

Burkwood drags his cart out of the woods and through the open gates of an outpost. A wooden fortification. One of the walls is knocked down, blood and viscera that’s several days old is scattered across the fortifications.

The teen takes a few minutes to search a few buildings in the outpost finding very little. Some salted meat, some stale bread, and a few weapons. Burkwood had little training with melee weapons and thus avoided using them. He preferred the firearm in his hands if anything.

He quickly moved on from the grim scene and continued on his way.

In the distance Burkwood spots a few smoke plumes. As he crests a hill the village comes into view. Burkwood had come near here with his father before, but he was forbidden from entering towns.