She leaned her head against his shoulder, pushing herself closer into the boy, trying with all her ability to feel his heat through his coat. In response to her words and action, he put an arm around her, holding her in his arms. The day for the most part had faded from the sky, and little light there was came from the stars above, shining upon the two outcast children in the gently falling snow. They sat there, held together by their shared grief, and gazed up at the drifting constellations of the early night. Ander hadn’t a clue what to say to follow up her confession, and so he just let his gut speak for him.

“You know, the last person I sat to watch the stars with was my sister,” he looked down at her, seeing a frown come over her face. “Nina, in our world, pretty much anything could happen at any moment. It was luck that I found you… and I’m grateful for it. It’s the first thing I’ve been grateful for in a long time.”

Her eyes lit up, and in his arms, she shifted around to produce her small box of matches. She took one in her hand and struck it up using the brick wall they were propped against. Faint luminescence painted the white snow around them, reflecting off the falling flakes to sparkle light into the sky above. She held the match close so they could take in the feeling of the flames. Ander, feeling his nervousness grow in the presence of fire, tightened his grip on Nina, who noticed the reflexive action.

“It’s okay, Ander,” she gazed into his eyes, stretching up to plant a peck on his cheek. “You’re not alone. Not anymore. Okay?”

“You won’t leave me?” He gulped, doing everything he could to stop his voice from breaking. “Not like she did?”

“I already told you. With the little life I have left, I’ll be with you.” As the flame died, and the shadows of the alleyway consumed the air, Nina rested her head into the nook of Ander’s neck. For so long had he been barren of any emotional connection, someone he could truly rely on. Yet over the course of just a few minutes, that lonesome fact had dissolved. There was still a little pork and bread left in their meal, and over the duration of their star-watching, it was all but consumed. The heat vent continued to feed them reliable warmth, and as the night stretched on, the two embraced the caring arms of sleep, together.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

The morning light bled through the air, piercing Ander’s closed eyes with a bright red glow. He was roused to a lively morning, with crowds moving about the street which the alleyway fed off of. Calls and chants bellowed from the road, carrying harshly into his freshly woken ears. The snowfall had stopped, yet it was still as frigid as ever, and with every breath, there manifested a cold plume of frost from his lips. High above, sat on the edges of the buildings that formed the alleyway, was a murder of crows, cawing about themselves as they fluttered from rooftop to rooftop. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, with just the bright rays of the sun falling upon the hardening snow.

As his mind began to return to him, he felt a pressure against his side. It was Nina, still wrapped in the embrace of sleep, propped up against his shoulder as she carried on her silent slumber. Memories of the night before flashed in his mind, bringing him to smile at the warmth they brought him. For so long he had been alone. For so long he had been deprived of connection, friendship or love. But now he had her, and even with the little he knew of Nina, he was enamored with every aspect of her.

“Caw!” 

The crows above sounded off, generating flapping noises as they shuffled around. It was an unusual sight to see crows in the winter, that was for sure. He looked over at Nina again, feeling slightly off about the whole ordeal. She was quiet. Dead quiet.

“Caw!” 

He gently shook her, wishing to stir her from her slumber. But yet, he found no response. Her face was mostly covered with the fabric of her coat, and as he stripped it away, he made contact with her soft skin. She was cold. Dead cold.

“Caw!” 

“Nina?...” He whispered, shaking the girl again. Something was truly wrong, there was no reason for her to be in such a deep state of unconsciousness. There was no reason for her to be so cold, almost lifeless. And just as that thought crossed his mind, his heart skipped a beat, and his eyes flew open, bloodshot.

“Nina!” He continued to shake her, calling out her name. But there was no response. “Nina! Nina?”

As he continued to shake her, the box of matches came loose from her pocket, falling open to spill its contents into the snow. Ander continued to call to her, his voice growing to a yell.

“Nina! Nina!... NINA!”

It was then he realized something. She wasn’t breathing. Her sleep was truly silent, as not a breath came through her cold mouth. Sweat poured down Ander’s forehead as his hands began to shake. His heart, once belonging to the girl, quickened its pace with every passing second. His eyes threatened to fill with tears as he called her name in a broken voice.
“Nina!... NINA!”

She was dead. Consumed by the cold of the night. Never to wake from her eternal slumber. 

“NINA! *Sob*, *Sob* NEENAHAHAH!”

Ander was entirely broken, sobbing profusely as he shook the girl. Still, there came no response from her corpse, but he had no will to stop trying to revive her. All those who passed by the alley didn’t care enough to offer a passing glance as he yelled into the morning air, barely able to breathe as he choked out his breaths.

“You can’t leave me! Not you too - NINAAAaaa…”

His calls ceased entirely, leaving nothing but his harsh sobbing. Unable to bear it any longer, he collapsed onto her still chest, burying his head in her borrowed coat as he let out all of his suppressed misery. He was alone. He was so alone, in every regard. All of those he held dear to him, everyone he ever loved, were all dead and gone. His mother. His father. Elara. Mr. Alchov. Beatrice. Nina. They were all dead.

“...*hicc*...*hicc*... Ninaaa…” he called her name for the last time, holding her with all the strength he had left. True to her words: she was by his side with what little life she had left.

The moment stretched on, and eventually, he ran out of tears. The shambles of the person he once was took hold of the girl, and with trembling hands, he brushed away her silver bangs. Even in death, she was beautiful.

With a deep breath, he steadied himself and began to inspect her body for items. When encountering one who had succumbed to the cold, it was standard practice to take anything that could aid in one's survival. He loved Nina, with every shred of his soul. But in all honesty, there were few shreds left of his soul for him to love with. He took from her his jacket, made of green fabric, and fitted it back onto himself. Next came her matches, which he collected out of the snow, wet and most likely ruined. Finally, there was her rusty knife, tucked securely in a cloth wrapping for safekeeping. He hesitated to take it, remembering how she had prepared the food the night prior. But he needed it, so he took it.

When all was said and done, he pulled her in close, reveling in the feeling of her skin against his. The first person he had truly given his heart to - his first love - died the day after they met. So was life in the gutter. It was just as his father had enunciated it, No one knows what lies ahead, for any of us. Yet, things were different then. Back in Sylrel, he had family, he had friends. Now all he had was a cold corpse, and a broken, tattered heart.

“Caw!” 

With due respect, he laid her in the snow drift and began to bury her below its layers. He did so without gloves, wishing to be as close as he could to the woman who provided him company in his finest hour. Before he covered her face, he leaned down to give her a final kiss, filled with longing and sorrow. A hand ran through her silver mane before grouping it up to lay around her still visage. With one final motion of his hand, he buried her completely, laying her to rest in the alley where the two found a respite from loneliness.

He stayed there for quite some time, entrenched in silence and sorrow. In his hand was her rusted knife, held keenly in his perfectly still grip. It was all he had left of her, a single memento to the great gift she had given him. Their time was short, but it was sweet.

“Nina…” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I… Will live… I will live on, for us.”

With a final show of respect and a short prayer to the goddess Essa, he gathered himself together and made for the exit of the alleyway. The breadlines would be forming soon, and thus he was off on his way.