You follow a set of footprints through the snow, hoping they will lead you to a sign, any sign, of your lost companions. Sadly, the evidence you discover is not the kind you were hoping to find. Where the prints end, you find an ice pick covered in freshly frozen blood. To your horror, a human eye lies nearby, staining the snow red. A shudder creeps up your spine. What on Earth could compel somebody to do such a thing?