We followed what appeared to be a game trail. The snow was packed, but there were some tracks visible that had to have come from some great beast we never saw. Jenkins, before he succumbed to exposure, noticed tribal markings placed upon camouflaged totems. With his observation it became clear the only game that used the trail was the type on two legs. We left the trail and tried to cut through the wilderness. Poole and Wappler crashed through the ice and into glacial runoff. The cannibalistic natives attacked, and while beaten back, they were able to take their own dead as well as three porters. Night fell with the sounds of wolves howling our destruction and the pains of hunger driving reason from our mind.
