Muses of the Unknown

Icy Breath

I stared at her. My heart was beating and hands were sweating. I finally felt the heat beneath the three layers of clothing guarding me from the chilly Northeastern Wind. My lips crack under the very strain of moving against the cold. Blood spurted against her unsuspecting skin. She turned away, whipping her dark, tight curls across her face. I knew I heard her spit out in disgust.

"Sorry," I croaked, watching the sound flow along the wind. I stepped away and nearly lost my footing on the ice I tried so hard to steady myself upon. Instinctively I stuck out my tongue and flailed my arms. With the grace of an egg crumbling against the floor, my covered limbs smacked her body and latched onto her stable form.

Truth be told I didn't think my flailing would help. She simply swallowed the brunt of my fall. Sweat dripped from the tip of my nose and between her parted lips. I didn't know the contorted expression on her pale face was not her expression for disgust. I couldn't move to see the true reason. My blood froze in falling. My lips and outstretched tongue froze with it.

The cold kept us in that state for the next couple hours. Unlike the young woman beneath me, I could escape the shell of my body. I watched the incoming snowstorm swallow our mortal corpses.