Walking on the outskirts of the village, Blake blew his hot breath onto his hands to heat them up. As the breath escaped his lips it crystallizes slightly, and the air became white. With every step more snow fell down as if all the moisture within was leaking out into the atmosphere. The cold wind brushed against his face while biting at the skin. It felt like a tight hugging hand grabbing onto him trying to squeeze life right out of him. It made him want to bury himself underground, and use the warm soil as a blanket.
He rubbed his hands together, allowing some friction to warm up his palms and fingers. He had just finished cleaning his boots with water from the river nearby, which caused his hands to freeze from the chilly breeze. Honestly, It would have been easier to just go to the water well within the village but Blake chose explicitly to avoid places that was too public.
