In the bitter cold of the Stranded Ship, a large warrior sat amongst the wolves, sharing meat with the animals he called friends. He had an empty expression on his broad face, though his snowy white beard obscured most of it.

Polar Knight looked up as it began to snow harder around the ship, although he didn't even shiver. He felt no cold.

"Getting dark," he mumbled to himself, leaning over to pat one of the wolves on the head. The hound, in turn, nuzzled into his hand.