The sun shone, but no warmth could be felt. It left earlier than the day before.
The trees have died, but something inside me is more alive than ever.
The North night rises again and fills my veins.
A flame’s hidden in the thicket, burning away the thorns.
The cold won’t stop my legs from moving.
I slip on the hidden ice, but it’s too cold to bleed. The path inevitably ends.
The frozen snow cuts at my ankles with every stride, but I choose not to feel it.
I have too far left to go, so I’ll run like the wolf ‘til the fox follows in the snow.
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