One Icy Morning

Covenant Calendar: 4th Age of Reconciliation 
The sun had just passed above the snow-swept landscape, its illuminating light peaking out above the forests of trees, and proving a welcome companion to the Covenant occupants surrounding a half demolished mountain. The warmth promised by these rays however, was yet  to manifest, as Zil ‘Kanayee quickly discovered on stepping out of his contubernium hab unit. The bitter wind, thankfully a mere whisper from the blizzard the night before, stung his face, and despite his armor, sent a shiver down his spine. Coming from a tropical environment, he had a loathing for the cold, but as a warrior of the Covenant, he was not going to let mere weather break him. 
Ignoring the continued assault of snow flakes blown up from the ground, he began a brisk walk to the communion hall at the heart of the Covenant's encampment. Looking about on his way down, Zil contemplated why the Ancients, crafters of the Sacred Rings, had chosen this area as the resting place for one of their gifts. A forsaken mountain in the middle of an endless forest, trapped in what seemed an endless winter. Perhaps its presence helped the land in some way, allowing life to survive the harsh climate. Or perhaps, the climate itself was met to defend the relic from those unworthy of it. 
A sudden rack snapped the Sangheili out of his thoughts, coming to a sudden stop, he carefully examining the surrounding trees. The tall plants, somehow still retaining a vibrant green, merely swayed in the wind, the weight of packed snow causing some to bend. While the noise could have been simply that, more recently there had been attacks by native predators on lone patrols. Hand hovering above a crystal spinner pistol on his thigh, Zil slowly watched the area for any sign of the pack-like beasts. 
After several units of silence, the Sangheili began to relax, and continue onwards. Nearing the center of the camp, he saw other covenant soldiers were also now active, some deep in conversation with their kinsmen holding hot vials of liquid in their hands. Others like himself, had  clearly only just awoken, the tired warriors trudging their way through the knee-high snow towards the promise of a hot meal. Zil paused briefly near the hall, granting a bow of respect as a pair of San ‘Shyuum the head Cleric and his assistant, made their way past in thick hooded robes before the beginning of the worship service later. 
Watching them for a moment as they passed a snowy hill, he felt a memory stir within. His mother, Head Matron of the clan's defenses, had taken part in her annual spiritual purification ritual, for which a male blood relative was required to be present. His Uncle, the typical choice, had been unavailable at the time. Thus the childling, considered of age, was seen as a worthy substitute. 
Forced to wait outside alongside the monk caretaker, the two, wrapped in thick Kolo robes, had shared a pot of tea while overlooking a vista of snow-capped mountain tops. These acted as the boundary between the lands of clan Kanay, and those of their rival, clan Horno. The scene of the sun making its way above those peaks had been the only pleasant memory he could recall involving the icy material. For a few moments  he savored the memory,  the warmth of the fur robe and taste of the sweetness of the tea on his tongue, before finally entering the building. 
The smell of roasting meat and vegetables assailed his nostrils as he made his way towards a long table where a banquet awaited him. Various meats, grain mashes, and vats of hot liquids tempted him as he examined the choices, before taking a vial of hot tea, alongside several large slices of roasted meat and a mixture of sweet fruits. Taking a seat near one of the flare tridents keeping the building warm, Zil had just begun to enjoy his drink, when a familiar voice spoke up behind him. 
“Ah, normally I find myself the earliest to rise, though it appears today I have been bested.”
Zil paused, watching as Yorn took a seat next to him, a bowl of hot grain mash, and fried Kolo meat decorating their platter. A chuckle escaped his mandibles as he set down his tea,
“The warrior who rises early is granted the best portion of stew," he recited an old phrase commonly used during their days at the war college.
"Perhaps if you enjoyed a proper sunrise such as myself, you would have an edge over me.” 
Yorn barked out a laugh, as he tucked into his own meal.
“I suppose next time I will have to rise with the stars themselves to beat you then, brother.”  The two ate in silence for a few minutes, before Zil spoke up,
“Have you heard how the excavation goes? I saw you the other day communicating with a pair of Mgalekgolo stationed closer to the dig site.” Yorn shook his head, swallowing a chunk of meat.
“Nothing yet, though the eels claim the diggers will not be much longer, likely no more than another day before they finally breach the relic site entrance.” A look of slight disappointment passed over the younger Sangheili's features, the prospect of another cold sentry duty bore down on his mind.
“If it brings you any solace,” Yorn commented, not even looking up from his meal, “I have heard that when the relic is opened, they'll need additional security for those Discovery-Priests and Glyph-Speakers that venture within. It would be our first steps into a divine creation of the Forerunners." The idea of such an honor did indeed cheer Zil's immensely, and sparked a hot fire within his soul that heated him more than any Kolo robes could.
Category:The Weekly