Reay Jespersen

Asger trudged forward, now more from habit than strength or willpower. His wrapped layers of furs couldn’t withstand the onslaught of the blizzard, and the ever-deepening snow was proving to be more than his match, champion warrior or no.
He stumbled and fell again, ice-crusted scabbard slashing at his booted leg, the pain crippling.
He pushed himself upright and moved on until he fell again. And again. Until he could finally push himself upright no more. Yet he was strangely comforted by that. Finally, a chance to rest and catch his breath. Perhaps sleep. Just briefly.
Just briefly…