Fine, I’ll admit it. I look so un-Villagerlike it’s extraordinary. Nothing much to look at, literally and figuratively. Sandy brown hair Alfarr hacked off around my chin and bangs that I can hide behind because no one likes my eyes. My hair is not chestnut brown, not muddy brown, just brown. Not warm sand, not shell sand, just clammy sand. Sandy brown. My eyes are grey and I guess they’re the best part of my appearance like a severed toe is to a knife wound. Normally grey eyes can make you look fierce. Stormface Greyeyes uses his to live up to his name with his glares. Other grey eyes look like iron, sometimes liquid, sometimes hard, but always tough and ready to kill you one way or another. Mine look like a storm that coughs a breeze. To add to my misery whatever god that specializes in tormenting mortals made one eye darker than the other so while one looks like a pathetic fluff of grey the other looks like iron that someone molded into an outhouse's sitting rim.

My name is Hlif but anyone who actually uses it ends up going wayside and calling me Hilf. Must be because of the general amount of blows to the head, a Villager's pride. Sure it rolls off the tongue better but still. Hlif. My name is Hlif. It's bad enough with my scrawny body and skin that just can’t seem to hold a tan that I'm almost never called by my actual name. Because I have no muscle whatsoever I am the most useless thing in the Village besides Snorri’s brains. Ack, I can’t dislike the guy. He just follows Alfarr’s orders. Other than that he’s really nice and downright kind for a Villager.

But back to my predicament.

I wriggled in my shirt trying to get the blood back into my arms. Maybe if I could just stretch my arms a little I could-

Riiiiiiiiiiip

Flup WHOMP

Ow. I’d slipped right out and landed on the bruise I’d gotten from being dropped by Alfarr. I got up groaning. Great. My shirt was too high for me to reach. I sighed. Might as well go home. I started to turn then stopped. Wait. Agh, marsh madness that’s my last actual tunic. I’d used the others to make patches for my better shirts. This was the last one that had a little bit of the original thing left to show underneath all the fixes.

"I'd say the gods hate me but most likely..." I trailed off. No, they most definitely hated me or at the very least forgot to give me any luck when my basket came around. 

I jumped and my fingers just brushed a thread. No luck there since that thread was at least half a hand long. Hmmm. I spied a rock sitting innocently next to the carrot barrel I’d been so kindly acquainted with earlier. I leaned over and scooped it up. Hmm. Not bad, not bad. A few tosses in the air and I’d gotten a feel for the projectile.

Satisfied, I cocked my arm back for operation last actual piece of clothing rescue mission phase one and-

“OW!”

Something bashed into me from behind and drove me into the store’s wall, which tasted like snow, frozen snow, wood, frozen wood, and a trace amount of roasted chicken. I slid down to the icy, muddy ground and looked up at my attacker from between my arms and knees.

Iron traveling boots she was gorgeous. Even with an expression like soured milk and the awkward angle she was a sight to behold. Her hair somehow managed to capture nature’s fiery flames and golden sunsets, roaring red and golden rays. The long patterns of charcoal black staining those locks looked like smoke from a burning battlefield and deep green eyes like the fathomless ocean gave her person a dangerous air, a presence like a crouching chimera, regal and always ready. Eydis. Oh, did I have it bad for Eydis. Every boy in the village did. She was the toughest Village adolescent, even more so than Alfarr, or even Gumgahh Terriblenest, The Fifth In A Long Line Of Fours when he was alive and eating dragons. I scrambled up and made my best effort to brush myself off but just ended up smearing even more muddy mush all over tattered pants.

Eydis flicked her eyes over me, then stared right into mine. 

Kicking lizards, I could feel my blush creeping down to my chest.

She kept staring.

My cheeks were inching towards the exact shade of her hair and the blush was beginning to feel like a rash.

And she kept staring.

I couldn’t take it. I looked away and started rocking on my heels, swinging my arms. There was a tiny little pair of shoes sitting on a rock.“So.” I said, drawing it out. “W-wh-hah, uh, what are you doing, Eydis? Did you, ah, happen to see anything?” She just kept on staring at me. “Ha! Ha ha um. Well, y’see we were just, uhm, just-” She put her hand on my chest, and for a quick heartbeat I felt warm. Then she shoved me to the side, sending me sliding a few strides on the bruising ground. “You’re blocking the door.” With one last glancing glare she smashed the door open and stepped through. It closed behind her with a thud.

I sighed and tried in vain to clean myself up again. No luck.

The shop looked so inviting now that Eydis was in it, but I was already frozen and didn’t feel in the mood to brave the shopkeeper’s snarky remarks and demeaning attitude.

From above I heard fabric tearing and looked up just in time to see my patched, frayed, and filthy shirt fly over the Village and disappear into the stormy sky. ”Boils on witches’ warts.” I cursed.Nothing more I could do now. I turned towards home.

Frog’s breath it was freezing.

I tried jogging a bit while rubbing my arms to keep warm but I didn’t have enough breath to make it worthwhile and I was so cold I kept stumbling over my own feet, almost pitching into icedrifts. I passed house after house, some open with Villagers going to and from warm homes to other warm homes, laughing, together. The soft hillside grew steadily steeper and soon I was struggling even more so than before just to keep myself upright. The gravel beneath my feet constantly shifted as well, each pebble slick with frost.

After about fifteen minutes of trudging I reached my home perched on the top of the highest hill. Over my shoulder the town glowed orange, fires roaring in hearths and children braving the cold air to build snowpeople slaying snowbeasts. Distant laughter filtered up as a particularly gruesome death left white innards splattered everywhere. The children would soon return to their blankets, snug and cozy, to sleep until the next dim morning.

I wouldn’t be so lucky.