Over the next few days, Pan Long finally settled down.
Winter in the Northlands was brutally harsh. The thick snow and ice blanketing the land brought more than cold; countless Mountain Spirits and Demons lurked beneath it.
Leaving town at this time of year was dangerous. Every town in the Northlands was protected by a Formation that kept most Demons away. Even if one came close, the Formation usually gave the residents some warning.
Inside town, then, people were relatively safe. But beyond it, danger lurked everywhere and every night held fresh terror. Even in fields farmed year after year, a Snow Wraith or Ice Spirit might burst from beneath the snow. These Demons, born of bitter cold, could arise anywhere without special precautions.
Every winter, contact between towns in the Northlands ceased. Unless an emergency called for activating their Communication Formations, the towns went without news of one another from September until the following March—nearly half a year.
During that time, Northerners rarely went out except to kill Demons approaching town. Most stayed home, relying on cellars and hearth fires for warmth. Each night, the town Formations sent warmth into every household's bedrooms so no one would freeze to death in their sleep.
Even so, many people froze to death each winter. When the thaw came, the first great task in every Northlands town was burying the dead.
Dingfeng Town had fared fairly well. By the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth lunar month, when the Little New Year arrived, only two people had frozen to death that winter.
Neither had died from poverty. They were old and frail, their vitality spent, and could no longer withstand the cold. While snow had fallen day after day, they had scarcely left their bedrooms and had been fine. Then the twenty-third dawned