“The new moon cast silvery light across the drifts surrounding the sleeping camp high in the foothills. Still Winter Wheat waited, as she had for hours. Huddled in her traveling cloak beneath a snow-laden fir, she was certain that no one in the Lowlander encampment could see her. More than once passing guards had almost stepped on her. The two night watchmen shivered under thin cloaks, their biceps bare and gleaming with some kind of protective oil or wax perhaps intended to combat cold. It seemed to offer little help. At this altitude and season, and so close to the glacier, the air was thin and chilly, frost-laden. Wheat, however, was comfortable, wearing a fine lace scarf made from rare Highland fur loosely looped around her neck. The hollow core fiber, while light and lofty, warded the weather wonderfully.”

--Chapter 11, The Broken Circle: Yarns of the Knitting Witches