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Raking a painful breath through my lungs, I bring my brows together. Must get to the castle. Must keep walking.
Step, by step, by step.
My toes are so cold they sting. The leather of my boots is frozen stiff, and every step makes the material dig into the top of my foot. It hurts so much. Everything hurts.
Maybe I should just stop. I feel warm now. I could strip off one of these scarves. Pushing the material down past my chin, I gulp down a breath of air. It doesn’t taste so cold anymore.
I frown and try to focus on the castle. I must be Alice and this is Wonderland, because it’s not getting any nearer. Perspective and distance are all messed up. The farther I walk, the farther the castle is. It still looks dark and dangerous and so, so far away.
Keep walking,a voice screams. Don’t stop.
My grip on the suitcase handle is weak, but I drag it as best I can. I bury my chin in my chest and walk. On, and on, and on.
When I see the gate looming up ahead, I stumble forward and fall. It almost feels like I’m watching it happen to someone else. An out-of-body experience. Everything is so hazy. So slow.
But at least it’s not cold. The warmth is back, and it feels good, even as I fall to the ground.
I catch myself on my hands and knees and snow slides into my glove. Slowly, almost curiously, I tug my glove off and watch the white powder fall out.
My hand doesn’t feel cold. It almost doesn’t feel like my hand at all. I turn it around, staring at my palm as if it belongs to someone else. It’s almost as white as the snow on the ground. My fingertips are a pretty shade of purple. Huh. Wow.
I can’t think straight. It’s so very hard to stand up again.
A gust of wind blows snow across my face, partially obscuring the tall, wrought-iron gate and the fence that seems to go on for miles. The palace is so far beyond the gate, it feels like I’ve made no progress at all. I lean against my suitcase, resting my eyes for just a moment.
I just need a second. I’m so, so tired.
Then, a creak. A distinctly unnatural sound in this otherwise silent landscape. It doesn’t sound like the wind. It’s almost like some animal, letting out a howl in the fading light. The screech gets louder, grinding against my ears as I struggle to open my eyes.
Movement.
Something black.
The gate.
When did it get so hard to breathe? I try to stand up, holding on to my suitcase for support, but another gust of wind knocks me back, and I fall on the hard, frozen asphalt.
Everything goes dark.
