flagstaff where the winds are so cold animals freeze solid in a mater of seconds, the wind blows tiny frozen spears into youre face, and as a mist rolls over the land it coats it in a white death. a lone wanderer walks in this mist, as he walks he knows that he needs heat but stopping now would be a death sentance, the mans legs give out beneath him, he must crawl, the wind whips his face like a cold razor, he slowly crawls forward his arms go numb, the cold is setting in. soon he cannot pull himself foward and soon he must attempt to make fire. as he fumbles for matchs he cannot find them, he had forgotten them at his home! as our adventurer realizes his fate, he comes to terms with his doomed fate, he sits against a tree, soon the cold sets in.