The following contains strong language and adult themes and is intended for a mature audience.

With a savage battle cry, the knight and silver armor plunges into the swirling snow.

As he rushes from the darkness of the cave into the blizzard, he is nearly lost to sight in the vortex of white and wind.

His weirdly flowing armor becomes one with the storm.

His sword, clasped in both his mailed hands,

raised to deliver a slashing strike from behind his right shoulder, is nearly invisible.

Only his face, bare beneath his lifted visor, shows clearly through the wild weather.

His dark eyes blaze with fury and fear.

His mouth gapes wide on a ragged and murderous cry.

He rushes toward the beast.

The white beast is part of the weather too.

Lost in the weather too.

A hulking, hungry presence as it moves to reclaim its den.

The knight can see the creature clearly through the tempest only because its eyes.

It's ravenous eyes.

Glow an unnatural red and shine out of the depths of the maelstrom.

The knight can hear the thing as well.

Even over his own horse shout, even through the horse and steady roar of the wind.

He can hear the yeti growling low.

That growling.

It's not a fierce sound.

No.

...