Little changes in this land. Perhaps I grow accustomed to the cold of this place, but the winds do not seem as biting as they were. The darkness is somehow muted. My eyes still cannot discern anything new yet they have adapted to the dark, as if it were expected for an extended and unnatural length of time. I remain in my makeshift shelter, covered against the cold, huddling for warmth. Occasionally I consume packaged rations and water, just enough to sustain my vital functions.