Zavala sat cross-legged under a rock overhang, with his spear, a trophy from a fight with a vandal, laid across his lap. His ghost hovered beside him. Every few minutes, she would nervously turn her optic skyward, watching for any change in the weather. Zavala suspected it would snow soon. Couldn't be helped, they had to keep going. They wouldn't be safe until they found the Traveler.

'If anything happens to me, look for the blue flowers. Follow the flowers, they'll see you home.'

The trail of flowers had ended weeks ago. There were no flowers here, no plant life of any kind, just snow as far as the eye can see. He had planted the bulbs left to him at the end of the trail, just before the ground froze and he carried on, his direction determined purely by his and his ghost's instincts. The pull of the Light was their compass, gut feelings their only map.

[Should we go now?] Zavala fancied he felt a tremor from Izanami through their neural link. He wondered if she was feeling the cold too, he'd never known cold like it. His Light could mitigate it to an extent but he was at the stage of forgetting what warmth felt like.

'If you have to cross an ice field, watch out for crevasses. Only do it when the snow bridges are strongest, never during a thaw. Travel at night if you have to, just make sure the snow bridges are frozen.'

[Just a little longer.] He replied. [Try not to worry, Iz. We're close, I can feel it. Do you feel it?]

[Yes,] she said, sending waves of uncertainty through their link. [But I'm scared it's just wishful thinking at this point.]

Zavala decided it was time and picked up his spear, using it to pull himself to his feet. [We'll make it.] He blinked his tired eyes before setting off in the direction they were both convinced the Traveler lay. This endless snow gave him a headache, eyes are not supposed to look on nothing but white for weeks on end. He would have sold both his souls to see something green. He missed green so much. It was slow going, the snow was deep, every step an effort. He tried to distract himself from the cold in his bones and the blisters on his feet by concentrating on the dual voices spurring him on; the first, his Ghost, hovering ahead of him calling out encouragement. The second, Sasha, echoing through his memories.

He suddenly felt his feet give way beneath him and he fell through a patch of snow that wasn't nearly as strong as the thought it was. He heard Izanami scream his name out loud and he somehow had the presence of mind to keep a hold of his spear. He drove the point into the ice and used it to stop his descent into the crevasse. An undignified scrabble ensued and he eventually hauled himself out.

'Use your spear to test the snow before you step in it.'

He rolled over onto his back, panting from exertion. "I know," he breathed.

'Use your spear!'

"I know, Sashenka, I hear you."

[Zavala?] Izanami hovered anxiously over him. [Are you alright?]

[I'm fine. I just need a minute.]

[You were talking to yourself.] Izanami's outer shell rotated in a pattern Zavala knew signified curiosity or confusion. [Did you hit your head?]

"No I wasn't. I'm said I'm fine." He got back to his feet and gingerly retrieved his spear from the edge of the crevasse before carrying on. He suppressed a chuckle when he noticed Izanami frantically scanning all the snow in his path for hidden hazards.

The snow began to come down with a vengeance and the wind swung around so they were walking straight into it. The wind-driven snow felt like thousands of tiny pinpricks against his face and he found himself using his spear more and more, less to test the snow ahead of him and more to use it to haul himself forwards.

'You'll make it.'

When he reached the summit he didn't realise how much he had been looking at the ground, willing his feet to keep putting one in front of the other.

'With or without me, you'll make it.'

[Zavala!] Izanami intruded on his memories. [Zavala, look!]

Zavala raised his eyes slowly, seeing the beginnings of a tree-line below him, then a conflagration of huts, campfires and their accompanying plumes of smoke. He looked up and then he saw it; a massive, white sphere suspended above the settlement. It was scorched, massive sections missing from its hull but it was unmistakably the Traveler.

[We're here. Zavala, we're here!] Izanami darted off down the hill before shooting back to wait for Zavala, her impatience obvious.

Zavala, for his part, took a moment to absorb the scene before him. He wanted to commemorate the moment. He swallowed down a lump in his throat as he surveyed the burgeoning town before him.

We did it, Sashenka, he thought. We're home. Rest easy, now.