This most northern section of the paths here arcs around in a gentle curve to join the inner and outer patrol paths. The dirty brown slush is already being covered in a thin layer of fresh powdery snow. It is bitterly cold here and the wind that howls from the southeast bites and cuts at the flesh of the living. It carries flurries of snowflakes with it and drops them onto drifts that accumulate here. A dull aching coldness emanates from the glacier below, it's cold blue heart seems to suck the warmth out of everything above it. The sky is black and the stars shine down brightly. The waning half moon shines down. Fluffy white clouds drift lazily overhead