In the desolate land, the pitch-black train almost merged with the night, roaring mechanically, splashing waves of snow as it sped along, as if any past grievances couldn't catch up to it.
Lorenzo pushed open the door, the wild wind rushing in, and the gentle moonlight was scattered by the snowy curtain, dyeing the night a hazy gray, like the fog of Old Dunling, shrouding every place, with indistinguishable sounds echoing behind the scenes, as if monsters were walking under the heavy snow.
He looked down at the pocket watch in his hand; it had been a long time since they had boarded the train, it was already past midnight, and now they were far from human settlements, with only this solitary train moving within tens of kilometers.
Putting away the pocket watch and closing the door, Lorenzo mumbled something under his breath, seemingly calculating the time.
