On a small mountain peak, the sound of crunching snow echoed with every step. Yet despite the distinct noise that should have marked a trail of footprints, the snow remained undisturbed — pristine and untouched, as though no one had passed through at all.
And yet, there she was — a silhouette, barely visible against the endless white. A figure that resembled a young woman moved gracefully, her steps light and fluid, like a swan gliding across a frozen lake.
With each exhale, no warm breath escaped her lips — no sign of life, no mist that clung to the air like you'd expect from the living. It was as if her very body had adapted to the cold, her lungs frozen into empty chambers that thrived on the biting air.
