(sorry, EN World keeps crashing on me) The group makes a trek toward they believe the nearest coastline to be. After only a short walk, perhaps a little over an hour, the temperature begins to rise from unbearable to merely bone-chilling cold. Shortly after the air warms up, the distant sound of surf can be heard.
The shoreline is rough and rocky and it's obvious no one has made a landing here, at least without the aid of magic. To the right is new territory; leftward leads back to where the party beached their longboat in the small sandy cove.
...Assuming the group continues to the right along the shore (roughly southwestward)...
The shoreline varies between rough and nigh unpassable for most of the afternoon. As before, walking through this terrain shows almost no sign of life, but nearer to shore there seems to be some indication of birds, though rare. There are no game trails even, so slogging through the frozen snow is especially rough on some of the shorter demihumans.
After another couple of hours of progress, well past noon, the shoreline flattens out and the smell of dung-laced smoke can be smelled.
