Carter pulled up the collar of his mantle, feeling the soft fox fur brush against his chin as he shielded himself from the bone-chilling north winds that howled around him. It looked like another night of foul weather was about to begin.
The bitter air stung his nose and made his eyes water. As he turned, he could hear the snow crunching beneath his boots, the sound echoing in the dark, empty streets.
He strolled casually back to the inn, the snowflakes dancing around him in the air. The smell of burning wood wafted from the chimneys, mingling with the crisp scent of snow. Carter's fingers felt numb, and he rubbed them together, feeling the rough texture of his gloves.
He was curious to see what Dahlia had purchased for herself, wondering what treasures she had found in the quaint little shops of the village.
