The wind rushed across Darlyns pocketed and scarred face, whipping his silver mane around his shoulders. He muttered something about tying his hair back, as he had done in his youth, but made no move to do so. Instead, he faced directly into the wind. Into his awaiting demise. He huffed, his hot breath mixing with the chill wind and being taken off to the heavens. Wrapping his dragon-hide cloak around his brittle but still large body, he trudged forward, ever slowly, through the deep snow drifts.