Snow blew into his face again. Again, because this was the North Pole, and it was not uncommon to have a flurry of ice thrust at one's face. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? How worried must Santa and the Mrs. be!
He lifted his nose from his furry mittens, squinting. Through the blizzard, he saw a white puff, a gift of hope. It disappeared as soon as it came. He feared it had not been smoke, but simply his own breath, until the wind brought him a carol sung by his fellow elves.
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Nanobytes
Short StoryThis book contains my tiny stories (under 100) words. Updated infrequently, mostly for contests.
