The soft yarn of red mittens rub against my cheek; a hollow attempt at bringing warmth to the blushing skin against the chill of February mornings. Clouds form with each breath I take, fading as quickly as they came. A rabbit must have tread across the sparkling snow, its footprints the only evidence of its midnight scamper. And those too, are beginning to fade. Sunlight sifts through the veil of trees, dappling the snowy forest floor. Glistening pools here and there trickle slowly into the stream, which snakes through the forest, the ice atop it imperceptible to one’s eye. Icicles adorn the branches, preparing for a Snow Queen who will never come. A pile of nuts are strewn across the snow, perhaps dropped by a startled squirrel, frightened by the smiling moon. It needs not worry now, the moon has returned to her tranquil slumber as her brother stands vigil. He reaches his arms out towards me, but I am too far away to be enveloped in his embrace; I reach out and interlace my fingers through his instead.