Warmth, the aura vibrates, reaching the bone within, only enough to bring partial comfort. The wood shifts within the flame, sparks fly high, a short-lived escape. The bright glow emanated, covering the patch of fabric on the ground, a bed, cold, and left behind, like bread left to rot, it is nothing, but a memory now forgotten. A carcass lays in endless sleep, carved almost with precision, for the hunger that it sated, a life lost for another to cling, cling on to the last bit of life.

The warmth radiating from the fire, short lived among the lifeless snow. Crumbling from the heavens, falling as if once an angel, the snow is laid to rest amongst the rest, like ash from a burning sky.

The air leaves the lungs as if shot from a rifle, the cold wraps itself around the neck, as a serpent would attempt to suffocate its prey. The body is warm still, the legs trudging along, step by step lumbered. Nothing but hope would be left, hope somehow, left over determination to reach, "I'm... close, the fire... I can feel it."