Snow drifted through the air like falling ash, burying what was left of the village in a pale silence. The houses were hollow—wood eaten by rot, windows black with soot. There was no firelight anymore, only the endless white.
The girl moved through it quietly, her small frame wrapped in torn cloth. Her breath came out in sharp, uneven clouds. On her back, a boy clung to her shoulders, his face half-hidden in the crook of her neck. He was light—too light.
"Are you cold?" she asked softly.
He shook his head, but his hands trembled against her chest. His lips were blue.
They crossed the empty street, boots crunching through snow and glass. She pushed open the door of a ruined bakery and searched the shelves with shaking fingers. Nothing but dust. She sighed, shoulders slumping, before brushing off a corner of the counter where the two could sit.
The boy stared at her silently, eyes wide and tired. "There's nothing again?"
