The crow leads you off inland, following a path overgrown with grass and low bushes; even an experienced outdoorsman likely would have missed it, if it was unfamiliar. The forest shields you from the worst of the weather, but the snowfall is so thick that despite the high winds, the branches of the trees are already laden with snow. Gusts of wind release small avalanches, filling the air with white noise just under the howl of the storm. Except for your silent, almost-spectral guide, no living thing seems to stir in the forest, and other than the noise of wind and snow, nothing is audible - it is as if your group were the only living things on this island.<br/><br/>After about half an hour or so, you enter a small clearing, just in time to see your guide vanish into the trees on the far side; in the center of the clearing, four snow-covered lumps, about the size of a human child, lie sprawled; beneath their frozen blanket, no details can be ascertained.