C25 25

SILENCE

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

I wake in the night, staring at a trail of snow. My lips are cold and broken. My throat is parched and aching. My limbs are sore, dangling in the air, and I realize I’m on the back of a horse, tossed over the saddle like a sack of meat.

I try to examine my surroundings, but my neck is stiff and my body tied down. I can make out a forest, though