Death's Icy Fingers

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I didn't expect to die. At least, not this way. I excepted I would die in a nice warm bed, surrounded by my friends and family, old and grey. I would have hoped to die being truly satisfied with my life. So what cruel twist of fate brought me to this predicament?

I thought hard about what had transpired. What led me to this very moment, starving and freezing to death in some remote part of Iceland (as if Iceland wasn't remote enough already). I realized that my entire life had led up to this moment.

I was propped up against a huge pine, my arms wrapped around my knees. My fingers had long ago gone a sickly tinge of blue. My bare feet were frozen, cracked and bleeding from the ice pulling off my skin.

My body was getting heavy. I was too exhausted to move. I knew going to sleep would surely kill me, but I couldn't move my body anymore. I would just rest for a moment....my eyes slipped closed and I was lost in oblivion.

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The next thing I could discern from the icy cold was a scorching touch. I opened my mouth to cry out, but nothing coming from my frozen lips.

"What are you doing out here? Master Lindel will be displeased if you die. Come on. Get up." Something hot and furry was tugging at my arm. I winced and whimpered, trying to jerk away.

"That's it. Come on." A female voice encouraged. I was dragged through the snow, and dropped against something equally hot and scaly. I was hoisted over the hot thing's back before the ground shook and I felt weightless. I managed to open my eyes and saw the tree I had been leaning on, disappearing as we rose into the sky. My hazy brain took several moments to comprehend what was happening and then my fear of heights took over and I fainted.

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I don't know how long I was out for. It could have been hours or days. But I was finally warm. My fingers and feet didn't ache as badly as before. I slowly turned onto my side and opened my eyes.

A blazing fire was the source of the amazing heat. On the other side of the fire, a man with long blonde hair handled a stone mortar and pestle with the utmost care. He would grind the ingredients into a powder, examine it and then add a bit more of one thing or another until he was satisfied. He lifted up the items and seemed to be whispering into it, making the contents glow. He nodded in satisfaction and set down the contents and looked over towards me, freezing when he saw that I was awake.

"Hello. I'm Lindel." The man smiled at me as he introduced himself.

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