Winter's Bone

One thing she didn’t particularly miss in her absence from home was the damn biting cold. When Mariah finally did venture out, she had an additional fur draped over her shoulders and across her back. It didn’t take long for the chill to reach her bones as bare as they were- but at least the extra layer did help. With each step echoed a crunch of fresh snow- even still, the skies were fairly clear for now.

The garden was nestled between a group of sturdy pine trees, their snow-laden branches drooping low under the weight of winter. It lay dormant now, stripped bare by the harsh weather. But Mariah saw beyond the barren landscape. In her mind's eye, soon the beds would be lush with spring herbs and vibrant flowers; their aroma wafting through the air, intertwining with the scent of pine and sea salt. The bitterness of the cold was merely a precursor to the palate of nature's renewal that would soon awaken in technicolor exuberance.

The bulbs and seeds were dormant now, awaiting the soft thaw of spring to stir them into action. It was an annual cycle of rebirth, and she couldn’t help but be excited for life to return to the north. But just as much so for the god-awful chill to recede at long last.

"Mariah Mendacium"