Cold. So very cold. It’s frigid. Can you even feel your fingers anymore? It had frozen over night, the streets coated with a thin layer of ice—your breath cloudy in front of you as you panted, somewhere between awake and sleep—dead and alive. Your teeth chattered loudly against your control, but you couldn’t hear so much as a peep anymore and you weren’t even sure the tips of your ears fingers or toes were on your body anymore. Somewhere in an alley you lay, body buried under a light snow—not nearly enough to cover you, not close enough to form a blanket. You were soaked to the bone, eyes glassy and nearing lifeless—this is how Bruno found you. He kneeled in front of you before you noticed him, his warm hands encompassing your cheeks—his kind blue eyes looking over you empathetically. He spoke, lips moving, but you couldn’t hear.