Snow fell from the skies. It settled in small piles on the stony ground, before being whisked away by a strong gust of wind, turning the feathery flakes into tiny, individual razors.

Cain grabbed his shoulder when hundreds of these razors blew past on a breeze, slicing the pale gray flesh open. It was a shallow wound, but it stung like hell. Even Despair whinnied in pain, trudging slowly through the towering snowdrifts. A sudden flurry of hail pelted the travelers, tossing Cain off of the phantom horse. Despair disappeared into the ground, too tired to carry on. The horse was Cain's only guide, he had let the horse lead him to his destination, something his mother had taught him to do when he was only a child.

'I can't give up.' Cain pulled himself out of the snow. His body heat started to melt some of the snow that stuck on him, only for it to freeze into solid ice. But still he pushed on, trying to continue in the direction Despair had been headed. A blizzard was now raging, tearing its way over the frozen steppes of the Veil. The gray figure fell to his knees, tripping over an obstacle hidden by the blanket of sleet. He stood and marched on. It was getting harder for him to move, ice and snow began to gather at his knees and elbows. He reached a bridge of stone and began to cross over. Halfway across, he was blown off into the abyss by a rush of wind. It was all he could do to hang on to the crumbling edge.

He was so tired. His muscles ached, he was cold and he was miserable. Snow piled on top of his hands. His muscles refused to respond, worn out from fighting the storm. Cain considered just letting go. He could see it now. His fingers slipping off the edge. Him falling, falling into the welcoming maw below. How long would it take him to reach the bottom, if there was one? Would he splatter on the unforgiving stone, or be impaled by concealed spikes?

A fire burned in his chest.

"I will not die here!"

His muscles shook in protest as he pulled himself back up. His right elbow was on top of the snow. Then his left. He pushed himself back onto the bridge. He stood, arms wrapped around his chest, and again he marched on. Whether it was his Nephilim blood that allowed his body to keep moving in the harshest of environments or the unconquerable nature of the human soul that urged him on, none can say. But still, he refused to kneel to the force of nature that threatened to be his undoing.

Again a gust of wind blew Cain off of his feet. This time, it pitched him forward and to the right, away from the dangerous cliff face. He tumbled, head over heel, across the snow, falling into a pit and landing flat on his back. His vision darkened at the edges. He couldn't move. His muscles refused to respond anymore. Air wouldn't flow into his lungs. He couldn't breathe... He couldn't breathe...

The last thing he saw before he succumbed to exhaustion was a shadowy form hovering over him.

A wet nose prodded at the odd little creature that had tumbled down the entrance to its lair. The nose belonged to a chubby, six-legged animal that can only be described as resembling a cross between a plesiosaur and a leopard seal, save three stubby horns on its head. The snow-white fur of the creature was dappled in warm gray spots. A mew escaped its muzzle, and soon it was joined by its three siblings. The bravest reached out its three-toed arm and touched the little gray thing. They all squealed and waddled back against the wall when it stirred and groaned. When it made no other move, they crept closer.

A melodious hum pulled away the pups' attentions. They squeaked happily and waddled away, through a large, natural arch easily ten times their size. Once they were through, a huge, white limb covered in thick fur slipped through the arch, filling it completely. A paw with long, spindly fingers wrapped around the half-breed and picked him up, carrying him into the next chamber.

Massive did not begin to describe the size of the subterranean arena, nor did it describe the beast who held the tiny being in its hands so gently. A crystalline blue eye carefully watched the small creature, before drifting to the white mask at its side. The animal lowered Cain to its furry side, the warmest part right next to its front flipper. Soon the pups joined, curling up next to the mysterious creature who had stumbled into their lair.

Cain was awake before he opened his eyes. He was warm, and covered by a soft blanket.

He knew what would happen next. The smell of breakfast would fill his room, and his mother would come to wake him up like she always did. They would eat, and they would laugh about their strange dreams. Then they would go for a walk across the plains, the sweet scent of grass filling them both with joy. He might ask his mother to tell him a story, or she might say that she would race him to that tree and back, or they would just walk along in comfortable silence.

He opened his eyes, but not to the scene he expected. A heaviness filled his heart when it was not the warm and smiling face of his mother he saw, but a cold and stony cavern. He tried to move his arm, but found it pinned to his side. A moment of panic set in when he realized that he was not covered by a blanket, but surrounded by several furry white animals many times his size. Again, he tried to wriggle his way out of the predicament, but one of the creatures shifted positions and rested its head on his chest. Cain sighed and resigned himself to waiting for the creatures to either wake up or move so that he could escape.

It was not long before the creatures were awake and milling about. Two started play fighting, nipping at each other's large ears. Another chased a pretend something or other through the cavern, pouncing rather well for an animal with no knees. Cain started backing out of the cave, toward an archway easily ten times his size. With his next step, however, his back met fur instead of empty air. The half-breed hopped away and turned, staring right into huge, clear blue eyes. The eyes stared at him; they looked into his very soul.

The large furry head that the eyes belonged to moved out of his way. Cain was rooted to his spot.

"What are you?" He asked, not expecting a reply.

A chorus of whispers erupted in his head, a hundred voices with one message.

'Ravaiim,'

"Ravaiim?" He asked aloud.

'Yes.'

Cain furrowed his brow. That name, it sounded almost familiar. Like a half-remembered dream.

'What is your name, little one?'

Another pang of sorrow shot through his heart. What was his mother doing right now?

"Cain, and you?" His mother taught him to be polite, especially to people bigger than him.

'That, is not important. That mask, where did you get it?' The voices were accusing.

"It was my father's, why?" His fingers twitched over the handles of Retribution.

'His name?'

Cain didn't like where this was going.

"Death."

Apparently that was all the incentive the Ravaiim needed to attack. Like a snake, it's head shot towards him. He barely had time to jump out of the way. Unfortunately, one of the baby Ravaiim happened to waddle directly into his path at that moment. He landed on its flipper, causing him to slip and a cry of pain to tear its way out of the pup's chest. The adult Ravaiim attacked again, maw opened to swallow Cain whole. He dodged again, and the creatures teeth met the flesh of its child, puncturing its lungs and dooming it to a slow death.

The enormous beast keened, mourning its child, before returning its attention to Cain.

Who was currently climbing out the same way he fell in.

The weather was thankfully calm when Cain reached the surface. Despair was already pawing at the densely packed snow and neighed when his rider approached. The half-breed pulled himself onto the spectral horse, and they were on their way again, Despair confidently galloping towards a dark cloud in the distance. All was quiet.

Until the Ravaiim burst through the ground behind them.