Once they're outside Natasha's voice has to raise just a bit out of necessity to be heard over the wind. She's wasting no time in trudging her way up a once-bustling street, following tracks that are fairly fresh but filling with the ever present wind. Most of the tracks all around this place are headed toward the base, so any going a different direction are easy to spot.
"We haven't been turning folks away from this place. Whoever we're dealing with out here isn't likely to be reasoned with and they could have done much worse. We're out to retrieve supplies and make a statement. Anyone uncomfortable with doling out some street justice can kindly keep it to yourself."
In Winter the quiet takes on a life of its own. The snow muffles everything, choking noise into submission until all that's left is the sound of the wind and themselves as they move around snow drifts as best as they can while following the tracks. Here and there many old tracks cover one another--packing the lower layer of snow into rough ice. The trails of old shelters no longer viable with the torch line moving.
With all this white (and much less clean snow being covered up by the pristine white falling around them) it will be easy to spy a flicker of movement up ahead. The crunch of snow being compacted further along the road, darting around a corner.
no subject
Once they're outside Natasha's voice has to raise just a bit out of necessity to be heard over the wind. She's wasting no time in trudging her way up a once-bustling street, following tracks that are fairly fresh but filling with the ever present wind. Most of the tracks all around this place are headed toward the base, so any going a different direction are easy to spot.
"We haven't been turning folks away from this place. Whoever we're dealing with out here isn't likely to be reasoned with and they could have done much worse. We're out to retrieve supplies and make a statement. Anyone uncomfortable with doling out some street justice can kindly keep it to yourself."
In Winter the quiet takes on a life of its own. The snow muffles everything, choking noise into submission until all that's left is the sound of the wind and themselves as they move around snow drifts as best as they can while following the tracks. Here and there many old tracks cover one another--packing the lower layer of snow into rough ice. The trails of old shelters no longer viable with the torch line moving.
With all this white (and much less clean snow being covered up by the pristine white falling around them) it will be easy to spy a flicker of movement up ahead. The crunch of snow being compacted further along the road, darting around a corner.