The wind of the Freljord was bitter, the air carrying a taste that was found nowhere else in the world. No matter where you walked among the snow, you could taste the bitter, hostile magics that was invested within the land. Whether the land was at war with itself, or the rest of the world, Darius could not tell; all he could tell was that he wanted more furs, and he wasn't entirely certain he could feel his toes.
His eyes were squinted against the wind; he could no longer tell how much of his unit were behind him. The noise of the wind was enough that it drowned out what he was able to hear; his eyes were searching for the flames of a Noxian camp among the whiteout blizzard. He could hear the howling of wolves, but pressed on with little care; if they were to dare attacking, it was their hides he would wear.
The grace of a fire in the distance was more than enough to bring a flare of joy to his heart. He had never imagined he'd love the sight of fire quite so much as he did then. There was a figure that came forward after a few dozen feet more; he couldn't see their face, but they were wearing Noxian armor. They guided him forward, calling to those who remained behind him; he would have to give this soldier a reward for getting them there sooner.
Once he was inside a tent, where the blast of warm air nearly fogged his vision without any sign of glas in front of it, he finally let out a rattled sigh. HIs body felt locked up in every joint, his fingers felt frozen in place, he couldn't feel his toes. It was nobody's fault that a blizzard had descended; it was his own he hadn't prepared for the possibility.
"General, you should sit." That voice was familiar; a woman of his warband, Liliana. She was always concerned for his wellbeing, and was one of his greatest healers, when he let her use her power on him. His only response was a grunt and reluctant obedience; a smile graced his face when his brother burst into the heat and promptly flopped down in front of the fire with no ceremony whatsoever.
He deserved that for his decision to go without an actual coat.
He didn't truly hear what Liliana said next; he felt like falling asleep, and therefore had to focus on staying awake. For him, this meant recounting memories of childhood, recounting war strategies and figuring out what the next day's agenda would be.
"What is our food situation?"
"A shortage, sir. We planned to fix that when the storm dies down."
"Alert me when it does. I will take part. Anything to get rid of the cold in my bones."
There was a chuckle that erupted between the soldiers, even as he shrugged off the cold metal that had done him no good and took the offer of a warm pelt for a blanket. He was aware they could sympathize; they had been here for nearly a week. It was hard enough without a fire- without one, he wouldn't have been surprised if they'd all frozen to death. Tomorrow, he would hunt, and tomorrow, he would figure out where they were to go from here. They had been sent to play diplomatic relations with the Winter's Claw and their ferocious queen, Sejuani.
They were not informed on how to get on her good side.
For now, however, he would focus on returning feeling to his fingers and toes and ears; he could focus on the rest when he was awake and aware. A yawn passed his lips, and without another word, he slipped into sleep by the fire. Politics would wait.