Cold.

No matter how many times I closed my eyes and opened them again, I could always sense its presence. That was all I knew. It caused the hairs behind my neck to rise. I began to construct a shelter from wood, mud, and vines. When I dragged out several split logs against the grass and layered them on top of each other, splinters dug into my arms. My hands became raw and bloody from the blisters that kept bursting open on my skin. It was the snow that fell upon the developing village each night, the icicles that hung from each tree branch, and the patterned layers of frost that covered the chocolate earth that reminded me that there was no warmth left. I would never encounter such a sensation again.

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks told me where we were, and I inhaled the scent of sea salt in the air. I took long walks for hours across the shoreline until dawn to feel the waves crash against my bare feet. Hermit crabs scuttled on the coral reefs. The white foam clung to my skin, and the seagulls crying out echoed in my ears. I could almost taste the grains of sand between my teeth; although I knew that no one dared to go out into the beach, as civilians from neighboring cities still went out there, though it was a very great distance from their homes. Palm trees swayed in the wind, coconuts gathered on the ground. I waded deeper into the ripples until the water sloshed against the waistline of my jeans; I let my fingertips touch its surface. A damp wind blew my hair upwards, wild strands floating in space as I closed my eyes.

I found a seagull with a dislocated wing who was wandering on a cluster of sharp rocks nearby. When I picked it up, it bit me a couple of times as I carefully and gently popped its wing back into place. But it seemed to calm down a bit as I caressed it in my hands, stroking its feathers.

Mushrooms, berries, and yucca roots were in great abundance in this plot of land, in which the women eagerly picked and gathered in the small handwoven baskets made out of grass and straw. One thatched hut soon spread into two, then four, six, and finally ten. Men carried wild boar on their backs to take back to their families, skinning and cutting the meat in thick chunks over their campfires. I knew it was wrong of me, but I couldn't help myself. During those lonely days I would come a little closer to where they were without their knowledge; watching them for hours on end from behind the hanging vines in the shadows. Their laughter and the smell of roasted pig caused the ache in my chest to grow worse.

Children giggled and ran around through the trees, scooping up generous handfuls of snow in a game in which they would chase and throw it at each other, only to be met by their upset parents, who scolded them for stepping outside the perimeters of their new village. Clearly, they had been forbidden from coming to this place and had never seen the cold white powder before, and so much of it too. But the curious little ones who often dared each other to sneak up to explore my makeshift shelter started to come more often in the week. Their beads and pendants swung around their necks; red and white paint dotted their small faces, which were streaked with dirt and sweat. They picked up sticks and drew all sorts of unique doodles into the mud, bending down on their blistered knees.

I began leaving behind sugar cane, sea shells that I had collected from the beach, mangoes and colorful stones, though I always remained hidden, as I did not wish to frighten them away with my horrid, disheveled appearance. Their visits were rays of sunshine in my loneliness, which clouded my mind and thoughts. Seeing their eyes light up with excitement as they picked up and examined the goodies made me smile for the first time in a while. They sat on the grass and began biting into the large orange fruits, juice getting all over their grubby fingers. Sometimes they played with the moss that hung around my shelter, sprinting around in circles, arms flailing in the air as they shouted and jumped down from climbing trees.

Eventually, the young' uns disappeared into the woods, laughing and shouting as they raced each other back to the village, clutching their treats tightly in their hands. The long trails of footprints that their tiny bare feet left in the damp soil rested next to the snow angels they made. My eyes suddenly became wet as I finally stepped out from the dark, my shadow spilling over a snowman with a smiling face made out of small smooth stones. Frost gradually began to grow on the trees as I slowly bent down and reattached the twisted stick for his arm that had fallen off.

* * * * * * *

With enough sunlight, rain, and microbial activity, a plant has what it needs to flourish. It starts out only as a mere seed, eventually forming its long, twisted roots and will begin to break its way through the surface of the earth. Even then, the small sprout will face great risks, whether being stepped on by someone's foot, insects, the weather itself, or a hungry rabbit. But this little bit of life does not quit. It finds a way to survive. It is determined to grow, to become taller and stronger over time, to stretch its leaves towards the sky.

The small village in front of me improved in the same way. Bamboo huts multiplied, and I saw less people wearing the gray security ward uniforms, now dressed in their traditional clothing with beautiful patterns. At night, whatever crooked soul like myself happened to stumble across the community, I made sure they did not see the light of day again. In the early hours of the morning, when the villagers awoke to start their work within the potato crops that they had planted, several frozen bodies of Red Mambas laid in the bushes, their lifeless eyes staring helplessly in the sky, hidden from their sight.

Sleep mattered not to me; it never had.

The idea of resting even for a minute and letting an intruder harm a single person always kept me going, even though I was so exhausted I was passed out during the day, which wasn't all that better. But every time I awoke with a dull headache and scrambled to get a better view of the village, where the people carried on with their daily work, a wave of relief washed over me. I wasn't sure how many days had passed, if it had been weeks or an entire year. By now my tangled thick hair hung to my waist, what remained of my filthy clothing was in tatters. When I noticed my reflection in a small puddle of water, I hardly recognized the monster looking back at me.

Eventually, the children stopped coming into the woods to play. I found myself sitting on the ground in the dark, staring at the fireflies that rose from the tall blades of grass. Their footprints had been buried underneath a fresh layer of snow. I couldn't focus on anything else or take up on any other task to distract myself. The only sound was the wind in the leaves that froze against my bare feet with every step I took, lost within the faint scuttering of squirrels and rabbits. I began to wonder if I would ever see a human being again or hear someone's voice in the distance; but no such thing occurred.

Time to time, adults would step towards the edge of my territory to collect large chunks of ice, but they never dared to go further. Once they had gathered a good amount, they pointed to the sky, remarking how much snow was coming down upon their homes, before immediately taking off.

Water beaded in my eyes as I remained there in the bushes. Slowly, I began to make my way back to my empty shelter, unable to watch them go.

* * * * * * * *

Drops of rain slipped off the nearby leaves and branches, diamond gems glittering on its surface. I sat in front of the smoldering remains of my dying campfire, poking at the ashes gathered and piled up around the white, burnt logs with a twisted stick. When they landed on my dirty palms, snowflakes formed on the surface, their elaborate patterns glowing in the dim moonlight. Puddles marked the soggy earth as I took the fish I had caught earlier and removed it from the smoking leaves, taking a few slow bites and setting it down on my lap. A deep sigh escaped from my mouth; my appetite was nonexistent.

The sound of twigs breaking caused a chill to run down my spine. Preparing myself to do some dirty work, I grunted as I launched myself in the air, swinging myself up from tree to tree, the blue light glowing in my palms. My water tendrils rose in the air, and I crouched down low on the branches supporting my weight in the tree, icicles rapidly growing at my touch. Since I couldn't see that well in the shadows, I slipped down the bark, barely making a sound. Months of doing this had made me a master in moving silently. When I landed on the soil, I braced myself, my eyes focusing on the lone figure who was stumbling ahead.

George loudly sneezed, wiping the layer of thin snot that had gathered on his red nose. He bent down and began scooping up more snow with a broken plastic pail in his hands, piling it neatly on top. Slowly, I lowered my hands, the pain in my head subsiding as the water sloshed on the ground all around me. I could not remember the last time I had seen a villager, and one so close to me.

A person.

Yet it was so dark he didn't notice me in the shadows. Not being able to help myself, I began to move closer towards him, my bare feet barely making a sound against the soft snow.

The man slowly stood up from his crouching position, his back faced to me. He had stopped humming long ago. His large blue eyes carefully scanned the darkness that surrounded him. As the bucket slipped out of his hands and clattered to the ground he tripped backwards against a tree, his beard dusted with frost, almost looking like fine white powdered sugar. Although he could not make out what was in front of him, he leaned against the wood. In his hand was a small stone knife, and he slowly held it out, gritting his teeth.

An ice shard fell on the ground.

George turned his head to the side, trying to make out my hidden form in the shadows. His eyes were wide, and his breaths were visible in the cold air. Frost traveled on the bucket half buried in the snow, causing him to scramble away on his knees. He kept looking around in the dark. I slowly inched closer.

"Hello?"

His voice had a shaky tone to it as he slightly squinted his eyes, causing a lump to rise in my throat. After a long moment of silence, he cautiously walked forward, pushing a few branches out of the way. I could that although he was still frightened, his curiosity had gotten the best of him. My fingertips dug against a tree trunk as he struggled to regain his composure, holding out his knife.

"Whoever is there, show yourself," George stammered. "Or..I'll...I'll...well...you don't want to know." He sneezed again, a fine spray of droplets floating in the cold air, before balling his fists. "You're messing with the wrong person, a lot of people usually underestimate me. Come out and fight. Fight me!" He thrust his chest out, getting into a stance. "I can throw a mean punch."

A strong gust of white wind came over us, causing him to land backwards on a pile of snow. The man coughed and sputtered, before shivering, and shame quickly washed over me for making him more cold than before. To my surprise, his face turned red as he chuckled with laughter and he sat up and dusted himself off.

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"I must be losing my mind, talking to trees," he muttered to himself. "Perhaps I am more tired than I thought. A good meal and a warm bed is what I need anyways."

My heart sank as George began to leave, the faint smile that had gathered on my lips fading away. Thousands of ideas to make him stay a moment longer raced through my mind. Before I was aware what I was doing, the earth beneath us began to vibrate. Clear ice boulders rose from the ground, causing him to yelp and duck for cover, raising his hands over his head. Blood dripped down my chin as a thick white fog settled over us. I began to walk slowly towards his shadow, frost spreading out from my bare feet with each step.

The terrified man peeked out with one eye from behind his fingers, his knife long gone. Very slowly, with my hand, I reached out to gently touch his shoulder. As soon as he felt it, a shriek escaped from his mouth as he scooted backwards on the ground, blindly looking at the white fog, unsure where to flee. To my dismay, his breathing was panicked, and he kept bracing himself for some sort of attack. I gazed at him for a moment.

Quietly, I got down on my knees on the ice, my hair covering my face from the gentle wind rising around us. Concentrating as much as I could, my whispered words began to grow and sprout like freshly planted seeds, blooming and rising in the air. Although he could not see me, I knew exactly where he was. A strong wave of energy fell upon me.

George suddenly stopped moving. He looked around in the white mist, clearly confused. I held my breath, praying that he wouldn't run away. A shocked expression crossed his pale face; he leaned forward as he squinted his eyes. Blood dripped from my mouth and stained the crisp snow.

I mean no harm.

My hands slightly shook as I continued to concentrate. The pain in my head was getting worse, but I didn't care. For the first time in ages, someone was talking to me.

George struggled to stand up, breathing heavily, still slowly moving backwards.

I promise it's alright. I know you're confused and terrified, and you have every right to be. But please don't go.

A long silence passed between us as he seemed to muster up some courage to speak again. "I ...I don't have any money, if that's what you are after. I have nothing but the clothes on my back."

I could never take anything from you or your people. You are a good leader for them, and they need you. But I have seen you struggle before. If you would like, and you do not have to if you are not comfortable doing so, I only wish for you to allow me to help you.

"H...how? Who are you?"

If you are in any danger, call out to me.

He narrowed his blue eyes. "I don't understand. What makes you think that you are so high and mighty, or know anything about my problems?"

It was hard for me to look at him. I'm here. Whenever you are concerned for the safety of your people, I'm right here, I promise. I promise.

The man rubbed at his temples and squinted his eyes for a moment, although I knew he could not see me. By now, the pain in my head was excruciating, but I couldn't give in now, although I could taste the blood in my nose, climbing the back of my throat. A tear escaped down my face as I slowly opened my eyes, my hair blowing in the wind, covering my face from the world.

I would never hurt you.

George's bewildered face was in a haze, a mismatch of lines and fragmented chunks of color. He stared at the blank canvas of white which hid my disgusting nature from him. His eyes began to widen as anxiety seemed to settle over him, although all he could see was the snow around him. And I knew that it was a lot for him to take in at the moment, although his frightened reaction stung worse than a swarm of bees.

As I watched his shadow disappear over the hill, he hesitated and looked back, before finally taking off, halfway tripping and falling down against the frozen grass in his scramble. When I slowly got to my feet; I stared at my reflections in the ice surrounding me, a wave of fatigue washing over me. The metallic taste of blood grew stronger in my mouth as the world started to get blurry, before pitch black.

* * * * * * *

Thunder shook the entire apartment. Rain fell on the windows, so hard I was worried that the glass would shatter and break. I crawled and ducked underneath the furniture before peering out into the dark hallway. Two shadows stretched on the cracked kitchen floor, and I peeked behind the doorway, into the warm, yellow light, hearing her heavy breathing. The other voice was loud, demanding. Her pale hand rested on the table next to a porcelain teacup.

“Why don't you just send him away for adoption and have someone else to deal with him? Find a foster home and get him out of here. You're doing nothing for yourself. How could you keep this from me, especially?"

“That's not an option," she snapped.

"How could you not know?!"

Her voice was strained, exhausted. “I didn’t, okay? He never showed any signs of it until now. Even when he gets really upset nothing truly happens. Maybe it some parts of the room would get covered in a little ice, but nothing like this. The teacher called and notified all the parents that one of the little girls had to be rushed to the hospital because her entire hand was frozen stiff and she couldn't move it. She was screaming in pain. He didn’t want to share a crayon with the classmate who tried to take it from him and lost his temper. Her folks are furious and are demanding answers. I...I have to find a new school for him, and I don’t know where to look. We’re going to have to move again soon.”

"What's that going to do to fix things? You're going to get sued and lose this place. The car. Maybe even custody over him too, if you don't get your act together."

She looked away. "I've been applying to different jobs recently. I'm thinking of going to school...I just need to borrow some money. I'll pay you back for everything. I can take care of the both of us."

An exasperated sigh escaped from the man’s mouth. “I don't have anything left to give you. You should have prepared for this. Does he even understand what he can do? Why hide it from him?”

A long silence passed. “I’m trying the best I can, alright? You passed this onto him. It’s not my fault that his father got drunk last week and crashed his car, so now I’m going to have to go without payments. What am I supposed to do, huh? His tantrums are getting out of control. And I can’t go to work without worrying something will happen."

The sound of the man’s footsteps squeaking against the ground echoed in my ears. “You really lack common sense, don't you? Sleeping around, partying, feeding your nose when you should’ve been studying in school. I sacrificed everything to give you what you needed. You’ve had privileges that I never got when I was your age. And you threw them away; spitting in my face. Now you have to be on welfare and receive checks from some low life bum who barely makes minimum wage and can't seem to let go of the bottle. I raised you better than that. Your own mother, before she left, made me promise the day that you were born to help you grow into the woman you were supposed to be. Turns out you're a failure. You can’t even keep your boy in check now.”

Her stifled breathing filled the air; her knuckles pale white from gripping the table. But the man continued.

“Crazy demon, he is. Psychopath. Can’t believe he inherited the same blasted thing I've spent years trying to hide. You should have never kept this child, and gotten rid of it when you'd had the chance the moment you found out you were pregnant. I don't want to see your ex boyfriend's disgusting offspring running around here. Keep that thing locked away.”

Her breaths were labored. "How could you say that about your own flesh and blood?"

"He's no grandson of mine," the man snarled. "He's nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing."

She banged her fists against the table, causing the teacup to rattle. "Don't take out your frustrations out on him because of your own genetics—”

”DON’T you even think of bringing me in this. This is about you and your son.”

Her eyes were red. “If I had gotten what you had, would you have wanted me a little bit longer?” Her voice was choked up, fell into a soft whisper. “Would you have sent me away later, or the same time that you did when Mama ran off?”

The man stiffened uncontrollably.

”You abandoned me,” she screamed. “What do you mean you raised me? You let them take me from you. I was tossed from foster home to foster home. Ten. Thirteen by the time I was able to get out on my own at seventeen. What kind of father visits a five year old girl only twice a year, for Christmas or birthdays? You left me because you were more interested in feeding your nose.”

“Margie…” It came out in a weaker voice.

“You’re nothing!”

“Do you understand how serious this is? He’ll kill you next one day. That—that thing deserves to be kept in a cage.”

“What's wrong with you? Keep your voice down, he's asleep. As a matter of fact, leave. Nobody asked you to stop by here."

"You keep hiding these things from him, it's doing him more harm than good. And you spoil the boy and give him whatever he wants; it’s about time you discipline him. It's going to eventually come back to you. And soon you'll have no one to blame but yourself. How can you even call yourself a mother?"

The sound the kitchen door slamming echoed in the house. Her face, although hidden underneath the thick locks of red hair, began to bleed dark ink. Softly, her quiet sobs fell in rhythm with the rain outside.

* * * * * * *

I quickly sat up, gasping for air as my chest rose up and down. Beads of sweat poured down my neck and collarbones. A good amount of dried blood was streaked across my nose and lips; I knew I had over exerted myself. For a moment I leaned my head against the rough tree trunk, noticing the plastic bucket in the gray snow; the impact of George's words leaving a burning sensation in my stomach. I hugged my knees tightly, my toes curling in the dirt.

A flash of lightning forked the sky, rebellious streaks of purple and blue slashing against the black surface of the raging heavens above, making me look up. I stared at them from behind my hair with only one eye, which hung over my face like a curtain. The branches swayed back and forth; leaves breaking free from the twisted twigs.

And that was when I heard the tanks.

The vibrations of their giant hulls shook this place. Water dripped from the ends of my dirty rags, which were plastered to my skin. Awkwardly, I rose and limped through the wet grass, still shaken from the remains of the nightmare that hovered in my mind. Leaves and moss stuck out from my hair, which brushed against the ribs that poked out of my skin. My fingertips were covered by my oversized sweater sleeves. The cold moisture leaking through the leaves was a sudden shock to my half asleep body.

In a daze, I made my way out into the pitch black night, where the scent of rain and moss filled the air. I could hear the men, how they reloaded their M4s, the way they tossed their cigarettes into the earth. I knew they were only a few miles away, as their intrusive movements shook the trees and the plants. The village itself was quiet and peaceful, fast asleep within the storm. A wave of panic washed over me as I stumbled over the rocks, causing my bare feet to bruise and bleed as I reached the bottom of the hill. A roaring clap of thunder shook the earth again, the winds blowing in rain so strong it was hard to see clearly.

For a moment, I stopped, my ears ringing. George's muddy footprints marked the path in front of me. As I crouched down, I placed my pale hands on the damp soil and closed my eyes, the ground suddenly becoming covered in a thick layer of frost spikes. Images flashed in my head. Honda's face. Toku and Kia holding on to each other. Hagar's bloodied blanket sprawled out on the ground. The burning wooden planks of the fort; bullet shells littered on the grass.

Snow began to form on the trees, on the vines. A fresh amount of blood trailed down my mouth and my nose as water leaked out from the twisted tree trunks, causing them to split open, liquid tendrils attaching to my back and arms, curling up at the ends. I gritted my teeth in pain. A sharp crackling sound echoed in the fields around me as I reached the jagged clearing that divided the village from the woods, stepping over that line for the very first time.

I began to sprint, my chest and arms burning. The rain began to pour even harder as I tripped over a twisted root and landed in a puddle of warm mud, becoming coated entirely in it, causing my clothes to cling to me. As I scrambled to my feet, I could make out some movement in the trees down below. The water in the air swirled around me as the blue light illuminated in my hands.

Slowly, ice grew on my skin and hair.