Deathly Cold
I can’t see the time flying by when I’m on the rink, so before I know it, it’s dark and the temperatures are absolutely freezing. I find the nearest spot to warm up and I intend to stick to it.
About the time I can finally feel the tip of my fingers again, I get a visit from a hooded figure I’m familiar with. I’m too cold to be afraid, but he looks tired.
“Don’t sweat it,” he tells me. “You’re good. You did well to find fire, though, I didn’t feel like doing this whole thing for a fourth time today. And in the same park, too.”
“A fourth time?”
“Yeaaaaaah, it’s a cold day, and they weren’t careful. Anyway, don’t stay there too late. I’m off the clock.”
And with a faint cloud of dark smoke, he disappears.
I wait until the blood goes back to the tip of my nose, and then I take his advice, and I get the heck out of the snow.