He was cold. So very cold. The cold penetrated deep into his body, becoming stronger until it felt like it was burning the flesh from his bones. Slowly, his thoughts slowed, bringing a blessed relief from the pain. Blackness swept him into its loving arms and he knew no more.<br/><br/>The slave called Trillen lay still. The shivers had long died away, leaving his muscles stiff, his skin blue, his breathing shallow. Were it possible to monitor, his brain would register almost no activity.<br/><br/>When at last his body was discovered in the snow, he gave no response whatsoever to her ministrations. His pulse remained so low it would be impossible to detect. But for the very shallow breathing, there would be no sign of life from the fallen man.