The man sat on the bank and watched the stygian-like river
sluggishly flow by, heavy with a mix of snow and grey ash, more viscous paste
than water. Every so often a tree or branch would drift past struggling to
reach out of the swirling mire, skeletal and beseeching. Above him the
oppressive clouds roiled, tormented by the ceaseless gale and heavy with the
promise of yet more niveous corruption.
A shiver ran through his hunger ravaged frame and he pulled
the tattered tarpaulin tighter about him. He watched as soot-dirtied snow
settled on his gnarled and filth encrusted hands; hands too cold to melt even
the smallest of flakes.
Somewhere off to his left a splintering crack followed by a
dull thud signalled the fall of yet another cadaverous pine. The demise of the
tree heralded stronger winds and that meant a blizzard was headed his way. He
would have to find shelter. He reattached his snow shoes and rising on
trembling legs he gathered his few belongings and began to climb his way back
up the river bank, his breath a pluming mist freezing his matted beard. His
eyes watered and his cheeks burned as his tears froze.
Reaching the top of the bank he scanned the bleak, lifeless
landscape. What was once a mixture of verdant woodland and flourishing farmland
was now shrouded in grey frozen slush. Trees, once tall and proud now stood
decaying and rotting, stripped of leaves and bark and bleached white by
hardened frost. A gust of bitterly cold wind bit into his face as he continued
to scan the surrounding area. Another gust momentarily cleared the murky fog
and driving snow and, at some distance to his right, he spotted the outline of
a building before it was once again enveloped in the miasma.
Drawing on his dwindling energy reserves and fighting
against the grime-laden snow which increasingly blew horizontally at the behest
of the howling wind he began trudging in the direction of the building.
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