
'His muscles, screaming in protest, tensed. His fingers, numb and stiff, twitched near the hilt of his sword, a useless, instinctual gesture. He was too weak to even lift it. He blinked slowly, trying to clear the haze from his vision as the figure drew closer, crowding out the white of the snow and the grey of the sky. He could see colors now, the shape of a person.
A low sound, rough with pain and disuse, escaped his chapped lips. It was meant to be a warning, a threat, but it ca... by neavyi