Stranded for weeks
After the travesty of a mission.

Shear soothing ripples
Brush upon her brow.
Nothing, but endless grief.

The scenery is always the same,
Packing snow, frozen bushes, and a half sun.
Bodies of water

Vexing to take in;
However, never too antagonizing
To escape from.

At the entrance of the region,
Filled with sastrugi lakes
Came an agent without hope.

She noticed his rusting vessel,
Yet, lay motionless on the shore.
Surely he was just another scrap for collection.

As the man came closer,
She realized he was no stranger.
Gliding across the sea ice,
Her sorrows were put to question.
The man was filled with direction.

The Echo of Snow,
Came across the Prophet of Warmth.
The two of them began their preparations,
And embarked on a return journey to Antioch.