Cold Fruits of Winter

We underestimated them – we assumed the Corrupted cunning, yes, but in the back of our minds, we considered them our lessers, barely capable of speech, and still clinging to the garments of settlers of old. We saw them as nothing more than the same shells we had seen to the South – the Withered we eagerly cut down as we harvested what we could from the isle. This arrogance has cost us the Cleave. The Corrupted used the winter against us – as they always have, I now see. They don't feel the cold stabbing at them, it does not slow their march. And worse, the day they fell upon the Great Bridge, they proved capable of not just cunning, but tactics: they used a winter flurry to mask their approach on both roads leading to the Bridge, and even if the watch had time to call out, their voices were lost in the storm. The Corrupted then set upon the remaining soldiers – but none of them did they cut down. Instead they pinned them, shackled them, and carried them away – where? To the North, perhaps. If so, they did not remain there long – within a season, they had returned, the sight of which nearly broke us as we caught sight of our lost men and women upon the Bridge, side by side with the Corrupted. -D. Prieto, Engineer