“Let me go, let me go, let me go..” The cries drifted passed him, carried down the long lines.
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Desperate, shushed…”Quiet, quiet, settle down..”
“Gone into the wind, gone into the icy dark, lost.” He murmured quietly, standing tall in the bitter wind. It tore the exposed parts of his face, rubbing it raw and red as if in some mockery of a healthy weariness.
He was weary, yes, yet the weariness made him want to sleep, even though he can’t, he must not. Oh he wished for fire now, though he had shunned its flickers ever since that accursed day, quietly nursing a stony part that should not fall. For warmth, for fire, they left while the grass was still green.
“Da, I’m tired.” A small hand suddenly tightens on his and tugged, “We have stopped walking, can I sleep?” Such a faint voice, he thought.
Eyes scanned the endless horizon, so bleak, so distant; he looked back, the center in a frozen circle, and then the ground trembled, groaning as black trails marred the white ground.
“Run child, run my child, I’m sorry my child.” He said, pushing the small girl away, watching her mount the snow bank.
He stayed, and fell into the warm abyss that took him, a burning cold.
The conscious shape reality.