Inktober XI: Snow

There was hardly a difference between the sky above the trio and the land they trudged through. Even the sharpest corners and cliffs on the mountainside were barely outlined in shades of white. Their carriage had nearly slipped twice within the last hour due to the spotter ahead being blinded by the harsh blasts of frost prying open his eyelids. Cardev had already switched out with Samael, but the winds seemed to be picking up once more. "Can't Reima take over from here?" Cardev called out over the howling gusts.
"You know she can't. She was assigned to watch the cargo, simple as that." He shouted from under his wool scarf. Cardev turned to face him, holding a hand to his ear. Samael sighed and pulled down the scarf, repeating himself as loudly and quickly as he could before pulling it back up over his nose. Even though it was only a moment, he could still feel the cold prickling at his lips and tongue. He could only imagine how Cardev was carrying on with only his beard as protection.
"I get it, but I still think it's bullshit," Cardev yelled, probing at the snowdrifts before him with his walking stick. "You and I spent the last trek foraging for anything edible in this forsaken wasteland, and what do we get upon getting back to camp?"
"We don't get shit?" Samael mumbled expectantly to himself, weary from both the weather and his friend's incessant grumbling.
"We don't get- shit!" Samael looked up ahead and saw Cardev on his butt, watching the section of snow and rock in front of him tumble down the mountainside with a soft roar. Along with the debris fading into the white void below, he spotted a familiar oak staff before it tumbled out of sight. Luckily enough, the horses were far enough away from the edge so that they didn't seem bothered, only shaken.
Samael trudged over to Cardev, struggling to pull the burly man up by his suspenders. Huffing, he simply put a hand on Cardev's shoulder and leaned towards him. "You alright?"
"I nearly plummeted a few thousand feet and we're down a walking stick, do you think I'm alright?" He could hear a soft break in the gruff voice that was soon covered up by a cough.
"Hey, it doesn't matter too much. We're nearly to Brekham." Samael patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, go take a break in the carriage. I'll check over the damage."
Cardev crawled back from the new hole in the path and stood up wordlessly, making his way to the rear of the paint-scarred wagon. Samael took a moment to look around the area, careful to stay close enough to solid ground. As he took a look at the section of rock forming a wall above him, he noticed a thin strand of something glistening with frost, suspended high in the air. Above it, he saw a tarp frozen almost entirely stiff, the bottom section jaggedly torn off. Atop it sat a collection of boulders the size of himself.
The first thing out of his mouth that wasn't a curse was a call to Cardev and Reima as he leapt over snowbanks, racing to the back of the carriage. But as he closed in, he saw one of the side flaps marred with multiple arrow shafts. He doubled his pace and reached for his sword at his belt, fighting against the straps with frostbitten fingers. The howling of the wind had faded, only to be replaced by blood pounding in his ears.
As Samael circled to the carriage's rear doors, he saw Cardev sprawled across the open back, dark red dripping down onto the pristine white snow underneath him. He could barely make out a large sprawled form on the floor of the carriage, but couldn't push himself to look any further within. Samael reached to his friend and leapt back as a bolt embedded itself in Cardev's back. He traced the bolt back to a figure in dark blue holding a heavy crossbow, standing only a few dozen feet away.
"Hey now, I wouldn't be doin' anythin' stupid if I was you," the figure cried out. "The boys an' me 'ave got this place surrunded. So as the sole survivor, you'd be doin' us a favor of saving some ammo if you just walked away an' give back what's ours."
Samael unsheathed his sword with one hand and threw aside his scarf with the other. "Listen here, I don't take orders from some piss-drinking 'revolutionaries' who think beheading is a hobby. If you want the cargo so badly, you'll have to fight me for it, one by one." He could barely make out the figure's movement, other than a possible look around, before he saw and heard it keel over in laughter.
"Aw shucks kid, that's mighty cute. What were you thinkin' you'd be doin'? Makin' some grand ol' 'last stand' to defend yer honor? Well shit, nobody's paintin' a portrait of either of us. The only thing you'd be recorded for is makin' some patch of snow red before it done got whited out again." He raised a hand in the air.
Samael barely registered the bolts as they embedded themselves into him. He simply felt too weak to stand and collapsed face-down in the snow. He could see a few bits of it turning dark red and suddenly, realized he didn't feel so cold after all. It was a comforting feeling, almost warm and snug. He could nearly fall asleep...

---

Col. Farche trudged through the snow towards the carriage, making a quick stop over the farmboy's body.
"Fuckin' Kelmorians," he said. He spat before standing upright again and taking a look over the bodies in the carriage. Huddled at the very back, he could make out three small forms shaking, each one holding on to the other with bone white grip. They were hardly younger than his own, he thought, before quickly shaking the revelation away. Now was time for business.
"Wh-who are you?" One of the children asked on the verge of tears. Farche pushed the oaf's body into the snow behind him and hefted himself up into the cramped cabin. He removed a leather-gloved hand and extended it to the children, who shrank away. He smiled.
"My name's Colonel Farche. We're 'ere to rescue you."