The evening air was filled with an icy chill that saturated the forest, soaking into bark and sap. The tree limbs above creaked and moaned, threatening to burst from the chill. The pines were covered in a layer of snow so deep that one could hardly see their needles, and the same went for the earth.

Jack Handler was a tall man on a tall horse and even he found the thick snow to hamper his onward progress. His own limbs were cold enough to creek in time with the trees above, and his beard had taken on a snowish appearance thanks to the ice and snow that had collected on its hairy surface. He wore his winter finest, shoulders stacked high with furs and a coat of the finest ermine.

The Call grew stronger in his chest, pulling him forward and urging him on. What horrors would he find in the Township of Greyrock?

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