The Winter never ends, but the unseen hand never rests.
Every morning it was the same, dull grey. The same rain. The same chill that bit and clawed at his skin. The harshness unrelenting, the wind so cold and ruthless. Yes, this is how it should be. An ever-present and imminent reminder that each day the time grew nearer. Each day was yet another step forward against the blinding odds.
Ivan however, was not a man who made habit of betting on a wing and a prayer - oh no. His faith had long run dry. All that was left now was pure ambition. Ambition rising like bile in the back of your throat, bubbling and burning from within.
Patience was also a strategy. Yes... have patience and you too shall see. Soon enough... soon enough.