48

You awaken in the sickly gray light of dawn. Zhu is still snoozing by your side. Outside the tent, the wind continues to howl; you can see the weight of fresh snowfall making the canvas walls sag. If there's one thing you really don't want to do, it's get out of your sleeping bag and pack up your tent, but you know you must. Weary, aching, and reluctant, you sit up and rouse Zhu, then begin your morning routine.

Yet again, a day of exertion and discomfort and unrelenting, blinding snowfall lies ahead. With a heavy heart, you press on, following Zhu up the pass as the snow obliterates all traces of your camp behind you.

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You've been trudging for a couple of hours when the rock looms into view.

You've found no caves at all in this stretch of the pass, just rugged mountainside and endless driving snow, a featureless wasteland full of wind and ice and pain. Then, looming up abruptly at the edge of visibility, a long, low shape appears. A rock formation a little taller than head height is protruding from the valley floor, covered in snow.

The formation's deep white coating obscures any specific details, but as you get closer, its general shape makes a powerful impression. The rocks are curved in a crescent shape, and a neck rises at one end, extending into a long, flat snout. The outline reminds you of nothing more than a slumbering dog.

"We should stop for a few moments," says Zhu. "Take some shelter behind the rocks."

The promise of respite arouses unsuspected reserves of energy in you. The pair of you pick up the pace to get into the shelter of the rocks, where you stretch and rest your aching bones.

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