Mirandra careened blindly through the city streets distracted by bitter tears that froze on her cheeks, running into empty vending carts and ice covered water barrels abandoned in the snow. There was nowhere to turn, yet Mirandra could not stop. The city gates flew past her as she continued wildly into the falling darkness of the snowy night. She did not see the white encrusted trees, hear the wolves’ calls, or feel the growing ice that hindered her survival. She was already numb and did not sense the cold closing in around her. Mirandra ran until she could no longer make her feet move. As her strides came slower, and her breath threatened to make her chest explode, Mirandra collided with what had seemed at first like nothing more than a mist on the road. She was beyond understanding what clung to her limbs, but it was warm and dark —-taking the form of a man at her touch. She no longer cared who held her, collapsing into the waiting arms, yielding to the sweet caress of unconsciousness.