Her toes were black. Infection would soon follow and Kepriah cursed under her breath. She would have to sear her feet after she severed her snow-bitten toes, and she looked around for kindling with which to start a fire. She glanced at the journal that had fallen from her pack last night, and noted the markings and numbers that represented passing days, then looked at her feet again. Happy sarding day of birth to me.
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