Riverbank

The air here is so cold that your breath begins to fog with each exhale. Mist rolls off the shore, crisp and cool, and pieces of ice float along the gray river’s current. There is something maybe even more appealing than the river itself: the steamboat. It is old and rusted and, by the sounds of it, barely working, but it is still working. It seems to be set on autopilot, floating from the southern end of the river all the way up to the north and then back again over and over. It only stops at one of two docks located at the northern and southernmost points in the arena before setting on its way. It could be your saving grace if you’re out of options for shelter. Or it could be a blaring call for danger. After all, there can only be one captain.