Three witches wearing raven masks raced down from the distant treetops, landing in front of four two-headed ogres, their billowing cloaks kicking up flurries of snow like white sand, shrouding their figures in a veil of mystery.
The cloaks of these ravens were woven from black feathers, the long, dark crow feathers are dense yet smooth, distinct from one another, standing in stark contrast against the silver-white world around them, making them appear like real, large crows against the pristine snow.
It was a witch who questioned, numbered Zero Five, standing at the forefront of the trio.
The leading hoop-headed ogre among the quartet didn't immediately respond to her query. Instead, it slightly raised its chin, glanced at the witch standing beside another raven numbered Zero Three, and said with amazement, "...I always thought that the lower your number, the higher your rank. I'm surprised that I was wrong."
