It is cold, cold and biting and it is all he can think about. He crawls out of the hole he made when he fell through the frozen lake, fingernails scraping against ice and snow, and it is cold. He cuts his knee on the edge of the ice, drags himself onto the surface with exhausting breaths, and it is cold. On hands and knees, on knees, on his feet, finally standing and finally stable and it is coldHe drags his feet along the ice, hands tucked underneath his arms crossed at his chest, and he watches the slide of snow that his boots push across. He watches each and every step, because if he falls again he won't get back out
( ... )
Yay! Thanks for filling this prompt! I actually felt cold while reading it, your descriptions were so spot-on. And I adore the final line, sheer perfection!
It is cold, cold and biting and it is all he can think about. He crawls out of the hole he made when he fell through the frozen lake, fingernails scraping against ice and snow, and it is cold. He cuts his knee on the edge of the ice, drags himself onto the surface with exhausting breaths, and it is cold. On hands and knees, on knees, on his feet, finally standing and finally stable and it is coldHe drags his feet along the ice, hands tucked underneath his arms crossed at his chest, and he watches the slide of snow that his boots push across. He watches each and every step, because if he falls again he won't get back out ( ... )
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