Threnody (001).

(This is a 300-word-a-day novel project.)

She staggered through the snow drifts that tugged at her legs, shivering, the snow stabbing against her eyes and the gusts of hard wind shoving her left and right; she used to hurt but now every part of her was numb, her hands hooked into frozen claws under her arms, the unbuttoned sleeves flapping away from her wrists like hurricane flags. All around here were the vague shapes of trees and underbrush covered in thick, blasted layers of snow that fell wet and heavy from the low gunmetal canopy of clouds. Visibility was no more than a few feet in any direction and she had no idea where she was or how she had gotten here, and until it was dragged up from the depths of her fractured mind she wasn’t even sure of who she was. But then –

Jesse, she said aloud, her voice no match for the howling wind. And though she was filled with gratitude as this most basic part of herself, she was going to die out here if she didn’t find some kind of shelter – she turned herself towards the nearest tree, a towering evergreen whose branches were bend down with snow weight, dropping to her deadened knees to crawl into the dead space made at the trunk.

Freezing, she brought her leaden hands to her mouth and blew on them, though it did little to help the sharp pain. It might have been her imagination but it seemed as if the storm were blowing itself out, the wind roaring further into the distance and the gulf between the deafening howls getting longer and longer. She was shivering badly now, which was a good sign in that she wasn’t entirely hypothermic, but now she was rattling herself silly, her teeth clicking together in her mouth.