Light, yet wet white snow fell all around me, and the it clung to my jumper who it landed on me, as if desperate that it was it's last chance of survival. The red brick chimney produced smoke, but I was too far away from the put-door fire place to feel the welcoming warm. My lips felt like icicles-little things, likely to break and snap off if it was dare touched. The air seemed to shiver in its own way, as if it could feel the cold to. The trees bent and swayed, dancing to keep warm, but creating a cold breeze for me. The ground moaned and crunched underneath me, the wetness soaking into my shoes with each step.
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Penana
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