Winter Wonder Land

The Winter wind bites in different ways. It can turn a pretty young girl's cheeks a bright reddish pink. And it can kill. Emily sat by the fireside, her thick damp woolen socks so close to the flame as to make steam rise above her still frozen toes, Her face, a painfully stinging blush of skin regaining feeling Carl was lost back there somewhere behind her. They had gotten separated, literally blown apart by gale force winds and blinding snow nine hours ago. Her fingers seemed to be painfully throbbing like the very beating of her heart, as they slowly thawed. She stared at the fire. She had hard images in her head, as to what might be happening to him right now. She was a realist, and given she had made it to the cabin nine hours ago, the scenarios were dismal, if not black. She had a hard time letting her heart back in on her train of logic, but she did. And suddenly, the bitter scenarios she had been entertaining in such a calm rational way, hit her like a ton of bricks. She pulled her knees up close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She began to heave and sob, and bury her face between her knees. "How can I live if Carl dies? How? How? How?"

Carl lay face down in the snow. Curling into a ball and hugging his frozen clothes. He was still fighting the relentless winds that would rip his clothes off, if they could. He buried his face in his backpack, and thought about her. Wondered if she was still alive. He felt disoriented. There were no stars above him to tell him which way to go. There was only blinding snow. He pushed his hands up under his down coat, and tugged at the thick woolen sweater, and the wick shirt beneath that, and rubbed his fingers on his bare belly, until at last, there was least a feeling of pain. He stuck them up into his armpits and squeezed his arms around them. If there is pain, there is hope. Without hope you die. He nibbled on a piece of dry apricot, as he got to his knees. And then, slowly, slowly, slowly, he stood up . And took a step.

Emily thoroughly wet the knees of her pajama pants before drying her eyes and sniffing with a certain sense that she had gotten all that out of the way. She wiped her nose on her pajama pants and had a delirious and momentary laugh, thinking how as a little girl, her mother would scold her for that. She stood and went to the stove. She lit a fire, and boiled a pot of water. She thought about how nice it was to have feeling back in her fingers and toes, as she stretched to get two tea cups from the cabinet shelf. One for her, and one for him. She kept the pot of water simmering, as she sat at the wooden table and thoughtfully sipped her tea. On the one hand, Carl was dead already, and buried under drifting snow. On the other hand, he's always been resourceful. He had a certain instinct. He always did. " Carl right now is walking. Walking very slowly." she said, sipping her tea. "He will probably lose some fingers ad toes, but he will be here soon." She got up, and turned up the heat on the pot of water. She stared at the little bubbles coming up through the water from the bottom of the pan. "Carl, should be here any minute." she said softly.