Ammagaruqnik
Botanist
The Bitter End
Winter came early this year, bringing with it heavy snowfall and a certain chill that prickled at the skin relentlessly. The cold invaded the little house, seeking to spread to every corner.
This place was really no different from everyone else's within the village; it was small, quaint and sparsely decorated. The wind pressed hard against the exterior of the cabin, screaming and howling eerily, but even still the walls stood in place. There were no lights, and no electricity inside, just a fire and a lamp burning on a wick dipped in oil. The light covering the interior with a mesmerizing yellow and orange glow.
The fire was small and it was slowly burning out, but you know if too much wood was used on this night, then there might not be enough later on, and who knew when that next chance to go outside would be without freezing to death. The little village in the midst of this storm would suffer for this. Not only were the people not able to gather enough necessities to prepare fer the weather, but it damaged the harvesting season too, cutting their usually gains in half.
You stand before the fire with your arms crossed. Around your shoulders is a heavy wool shawl that you distinctly remember had also been in the house since your childhood. On the ground at your feet is a small boy huddled by the stone fireplace with a blanket pulled tight around him.
Your little brother may have never known a time were he wasn't cold or hungry.. He's seems to take these kind of nights unusually well, considering how miserable it's been, but tonight seems different.
You sense it too.
He turns his head to look back and up toward you with his dark brown eyes, his curly black tresses are soft and move with the turn of this head. You had just cut his hair a week ago, so his hair is a bit short, and far more tame than usual.
And then he asks the unthinkable for such a young child, and it is something you cannot deny had crossed you mind as well once or twice since the storm began.
"Are we going to die here?" Your seven year old brother asks, with a pitiful, defeated and cold look as the wind rattled harshly against the thin walls of the cabin.
1. > Answer with sarcasm.
2. > Tell him no, and be firm about it.
3. > Give him your honest opinion, starvation and severe cold is on your mind.
4. > Opt out of reply.
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