Lit in Snow

Moonlit Flowers

The night grew colder as the winds of winter pounded against the windows of the stone building. Beatrice kept to herself, sitting awake on her bed, as the bite of the early morning snow was enough to keep her in a state of awareness. Henry slept next to her, and she gently stroked his brown hair pressed against his tanned skin. He continued to be fast asleep against their light gray sheets.
He never liked the bitter cold. Beatrice was indifferent about the season but preferred the spring, when all the animals would suddenly reappear accompanied by forest life.
Henry leaned into their hands and opened his eyes.
He muttered, "Good morning, Beatrice. She looked quickly at the window and averted her eyes back at him. His eyes then averted to the window, seeing the darkness with white snow falling. He turned back to her, sighed, and responded, "The current state of the weather isn't sustainable for us to leave, for it's the middle of the night. He was cut off.
"The current hour is 2:13 a.m.; it is morning. She said this, wide-eyed, looking back at the slightly older boy lying beside them. His facial expression reeked of annoyance and tiredness. "Of course you would have that knowledge," he responded, laying his head back down. She snickered at his reaction. he lifted his head back up and smiled lightly after a moment of her laughter.
"It is rather late to be out and about in these times, and it would be wise to stay indoors," Henry said, grabbing his glasses off the nightstand. He's just about blind without them. "But the celestial blooms only grow in winter!"
Currently, the celestial flowers create light and use the moon for photosynthesis, radiating heat with a warm yellow color that only lasts throughout the winter.
"But what? It's extremely dark and cold; it makes no sense if the two of us can just go at a different hour. He looked into her eyes and got lost in staring at her. He looked back and forth in between her two-colored eyes. "I'll get my coat, m'lady," he replied, signing and moving himself up off the bed. She smiled broadly and laughed for a moment while she grabbed her coat. Henry followed behind her, snapping the buttons on his coat.

It's 12 degrees Celsius. Beatrice, after lighting a candle for the lantern, grabbed Henry's hand while leaving the manor, leading him into the snow-covered forest that surrounded the dwelling. He kept close to her as his hot breath and the mix of cold air created a layer of white fog on his glasses. She suddenly stopped, admiring the moonlit flowers glowing in the middle of the forest. Henry slightly walked into her, almost falling back. She quickly turned around and grabbed his hand, catching him. His white-fogged glasses were misaligned with his eyes. She pulled him back and used the bottom of her light blue dress to clean the white fog off his glasses.
"Heavens!" He exclaimed, looking at the moonlit flowers, to find Beatrice crouching down to get a closer look. He walked over to her, gently touching her shoulder. She looked at him for a moment and asked, "Are they not beautiful, Henry?" She turned back to the flowers, and the moonlight bounced off her eyes. He kept staring at her, not at the flowers. "No, it is." There was a brief moment of silence.

"Might you be inclined to journey to the township with me, sweet miss?" He asked. She blinked and took his hand. "I would be most pleased, honorable gentleman." They stood up and walked into town using the light of the candle-lit lantern. The street lights were off; it was almost pitch black, and then the townsfolk were all gone. It was eerily silent. Not even sounds of nature could be heard, just very loud silence. "It appears that something is amiss. I sense distress, and I'm not fond of it, she said, gripping the side of her dress. "Indeed, whatever it may be, I sense it as well," Henry said, holding her hand tighter. "Perhaps it would be wise to make our way back." She dropped the lantern, then let go of his hand and ran into the dark alleyway. "Beatrice!" He yelled out, grabbing the lantern from the snow-covered ground. "Bea, please, not this again," he said to himself, walking through the dark alleyway. "Beatrice!" he says in a loud, hoarse whisper. He continues walking, shivering, with his breathing appearing in front of him. Of course, it had to be around 3 a.m. when she decided to run off into a dark alleyway. He can't blame her, though her instincts are different from his own.