Instead of resting, Sulin and I spent the next few hours covering up the bodies with snow. It was her idea. Even though no one really cared about their bodies, her words were to at least make them seem presentable, and not miserable even in death.
I respected her for such words, given the fact that she always looked unreadable, blank; it was somewhat surprising to realize that she was someone who cared.
Afterwards, we continued through the expanse of the bridge, with a damn teenager, incessantly insisting he wanted to see my summon.
By late morning, we finally reached the end of the bridge, which was a colossal gate of ice that stood at the entrance of a city with pale, high walls. When I got to the gate, I finally, to a large extent, understood why White Feather referred to this as the Ice Roads.
