ℝ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕖 𝕄𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 || ℙ𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖

1. In Fair Snezhnaya, Where We Lay Our Scene

It was snowing when she first saw him.

He was curled up within the hollow, his messy black hair flecked with snow. Upon his frail body were clothes too tattered to protect anything from the winter winds that bit away at life. Anyone could see the way his skin glowed red against the dull hues of the wood, how they heralded the calamity that would soon befall him if stayed in the cold.

Every child of Snezhnaya knew the basic symptoms of hypothermia.

Isabella stood observing the figure in her tree hollow, gripped with shock. Even the foxes and the squirrels knew not to disturb this place that she had claimed within the woods, for they had long accepted her as one of them. So, who was this stranger freezing to death before her very eyes?

"Who are you?" she asked, voicing her thoughts. Her voice smaller than ever in the face of the wind's might. It seemed the silence in which she waited for an answer stretched forever,

When there was no response, she stepped closer, her boots crunching the fresh snow beneath her feet. The puffs of dragon's breath she'd often exhibited were no more than mere wisps as she leaned in, the silent tension in the air almost suffocating. As her hand fell upon a part of exposed skin, she leapt back, her eyes wide. Even through her gloves she could feel the absence of heat, so unusual compared to the burning skin she'd often felt on her own body when she strayed a little too far into the cold's clutches.

It crossed her mind that this person was no longer alive, but as soon as the thought appeared, she shoved it away. She couldn't possibly fear a dead body when there were so many living ones that were far scarier. She watched the figure intently, no longer comprehending the falling snow around her. As the winds stilled momentarily, she noticed the slightest rise and fall that signaled breathing.

Grandpa had warned her of ruffians and thieves in the woods, of the cruel Fatui, of humans without hearts who wouldn't mercy an innocent girl like her. But this person before her was just a little boy, his life slowly fading until it was simply one with the howling wind and bitter frost. Despite the dangers, Isabella couldn't just run away.

Without hesitation, she took off her thick, brown coat, a birthday gift from Grandpa. It was rather worn, for the fur linings were tearing away at parts, having been scratched so much on branches. But in this weather, any coat was better than none. She wrapped it around the boy, surprised at how light his body was. As she lifted him from the hollow, she noticed how dark circles stood out under his eyes, and how his clothes seemed to fit him only vaguely. She'd seen the poorer families in town before, but never had she noticed how their bones seemed to jut from their thin flesh. Grandpa and her always had food on their plates and enough to buy fuel for the hearth, so she didn't have a reason to worry night and day for her livelihood. This boy, however, evidently did.

She slung one of his arms over her shoulder, letting the other slump to the side as she grasped his form. As she adjusted his position, she couldn't help but notice the darkened bruises on his face, decorating his face in an almost twisted manner. For a moment, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the wretched sight, but soon enough, the wind picked up. Whipping her dark braids around, it screamed as it flew through the forest, a warning to leave before it consumed them all.

At this call, Isabella snapped from her thoughts, the cold biting away at her now that she'd shed her jacket. She stumbled through the snow, limping awkwardly under the weight of a second person. Though she knew the woods better than most, her pace was stunted, and panic began to build in her chest. The weather was growing harsher and harsher still, yet shelter was still so far away. What would become of them if they did not reach her home in time? If the snow didn't bury her, Grandpa surely would for coming home so late.