<<< PREVIOUS STORY
The skeletal captain plodded through the snow-covered Winterlands, the cold harsh wind nipping at what was left of his skeletal frame. He had come to his dominion in the hope of getting closer to Wintival, but he felt frail as ever.
"You must forgive me," he spoke with chattering teeth, "but I am too weak."
He collapsed hopelessly in the snow. What a perfect resting place it was!
"I'm too weak to fight in your name. Too weak to raise an army. Too weak to carry on, Night Mother."
He sat up. Maybe he was hoping to hear a rebuttal, but the screeching wind was all that could be heard.
"And if I'm honest, I wasn't entirely sure of what you wanted me for anyway."
By this time, every single one of his bones was shaking, and frost began to creep into his shins and ankle bones. It was no use trying to keep going.
"I suppose this is rather a befitting fate. Frozen to death in the Winterlands."
As the snow came to gently bury him, his jawbone moved and added two words he hadn't planned on saying.