"We walk for hours along the top of a ridge, where the curve of...

"We walk for hours along the top of a ridge, where the curve of the road is swept bare by wind. Now, as we descend from the hills, we enter a deep dale. The surrounding bowl of hills shelters the valley, and the sunlight rarely shines here in the winter months.

Months of snow have fallen and frozen, fallen and frozen, in this vale of shadow. The road is a river of ice, slick and unforgiving, a harsh sweep of white iron, cold enough to freeze any uncovered flesh to its surface.”

— from the novel SINFUL FOLK