The pair collapsed on a pile, muffled giggling piercing the cold winds and frosted air. When they calmed down, they stood up together and looked at a large, frosted over gate. With a deep breath, they put their respective forelimbs against the wall and pushed.
Ir creaked open just enough for the pair to dart through before the wind pushed it back. In front of them was a frozen over outpost. Large towers decorated with icicles once watched over the frigid wastes, a vantage point in case another tried passing through this way again.
The pair winced at the door’s echoing thud, and waited a moment for the sounds to die.
The pony’s ear perked, listening intently to the fading echoes. Her partner swept piercing eyes around. The only movement were tattered flags dancing in the breeze and intermittent howling winds. The griffon twitched violently whenever a howl blew past.
They continued onwards.
Beyond the towers, there was an old military base. Barracks and tables and armories and administration buildings were scattered across the side, like toys forgotten. It was the only wind cover the two could use as they crept along the mountains edge.
Every door they passed, they pushed through frozen sleet to peek inside. Most of the time there was nothing besides a feel pieces of solidified furniture left. The occasional polearm glittered in the light from opened doorways, before being returned to their slumber.
There were still some that never managed to leave. Every once in a while, a howling blizzard would blow through the narrow mountain pass, and they would share a dark abode with a nameless soldier who would wait for leave that will never come.
“Winds stopped. Come on,” the griffon whispered.
“I gotcha,” the pony replied, muttering a quiet apology to the blued ghost before following her companion.
A cafeteria was found. The pair pounced into the pantry, digging out some canned food left behind.
“Need help?” the griffon asked, her claws unsheathed.
The pony shook her head, pulling out her hatchet. “Can you get a fire started? Maybe the tables?”
“If you're sure,” she said, hovering briefly over the pony before accepting the command and darted off.
A meager meal was shared besides the crackle of a lonely dancing flicker. Eyes closed, and slept.