She had forgotten what it felt like to be cold. Really cold. The kind of cold that eats your bones and skins your nose. It made her want to take a bath in Mama’s hot chicken noodle soup and drink warm cider. The smell of cinnamon always made her feel toasty, like melted butter on the stove. She would lounge on a sweet-buttered roll floating in Mama’s soup, sipping cider from a mug.
She tripped over a loose root and fell in the snow. “Keep moving,” said the man behind her. The ropes around her wrists chafed.
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I’m taking a mini NaNo break and doing some flash fiction. Huzzah huzzah!