The pass is black with shadows. A bitter wind eats at the exposed skin of the brother and sister as they push through. They trudge through ice-crusted snow that breaks with each step plunging their legs knee-deep into the powder. Their homespun breeches and leather ankle booties do nothing to ward off the cold. MarineContinue reading “The Illusion of Comfort”
The soft cold brine. The knowing. The tangle. *** The hard swoop of steel against physics. The nothing strike on flesh. *** The burst. The first splat and crunch. So satisfying, relish every moment. So few come. So few. *** Nothing left now. But wait. It comes again. One more bite and plunge!