They looked up and saw the full moon for the last time that night. The clouds swept overhead in thickening swathes of grey-white flowing sheets. Snow was coming fast on the keening wind. Already the falling temperature began to peel away the warmth that delimited them. It pierced their cloaks and undergarments to cradle despair onto their bones. Yet even through this wretchedness was the song of hope alive in their hearts. Neither fell voice nor evil intent could stop the flow of good intention advancing. The wind screamed and hurled heavy flakes of snow at them like icy hornets enraged by an inquisitive innocent poking a stick in their nest.
Yadafast turned to Razana and shouted above the elemental roar, “I cannot survive this. I must have shelter. We cannot progress this night. Let us retreat.”
Razana was made of more malleable metal than Yadafast and replied, “We will go on. We will not stop, nor will we retreat. Be a man Yadafast and weather this night and I say we will come into a brighter dawn.”
Ranzast hearing this protested, “So the innocent must perish though they have done nothing wrong.” It matters not to you the inequality, only the law. You blame the Yazata for all the problems in the world though you are also a member of a despised community. Weary not my thoughts with this. We will stop and seek shelter and see the wood burn away to ash in blue-yellow flares. The answer to this riddle then is fire; we must glow in its embrace. Razana I will not be trifled with; I am not some underling lord who thinks to be above himself. Stop now!”
The company halted.