Thick, green sausages pointed at the crude drawing in the snow. Beside the scratching of the camps lay a battleaxe, freshly sharpened. "So far, they've made no advances. They seem more interested in the mountains." Another hand, this one far more withered and darker than the first, stroked a long, grey beard. "Galvangar," started the owner of the second hand, "what are they doing up there?" --- The warriors lifted mugs of a warm, frothy liquid in the light of a blazing bonfire. "To the honored dead!" cried a voice, which was soon joined by many. "To the honored dead!"