Caution for: a little gore and body horror
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Atna
Between the encampment palisades and the edge of the forest is a cleared zone, empty as a fresh page. The smooth expanse of fallen snow belies the broken earth beneath. Dusk gathers, and the first gusts of the night wind moan in the trees. A weary figure trudges out from the treeline. Without skis to spread her weight, she ploughs through snow up to her thighs. The makeshift sled behind her is heavy, laden with an unmistakably human form.
The call goes up from the sentries, and the figure -- dark against the snow and featureless in the gloom -- stops to wave her arms in response. The dogs, loosed, run out to greet her, barking up a storm. They race across the open snow only to prance around her, throwing up great white plumes. When she continues her slog, they race back and forth ahead of her, churning the snow unhelpfully in their enthusiasm.