World Without End (2) What’s in the Storm

Somewhere along the trail, I let go of his hand; he never turned around to see what happened.
That bristled, but the snow swiftly blinded me, and his indifference to my fate no longer concerned me. With a peculiar blend of curiosity and relief, memories faded, and images of him became indistinct, as if water smeared a fresh paintig, streaking it into useless, unreadable patterns. That was his face to me now.
I went to my knees on the ledge, and the snow, swirling all around me, never actually touched me.
The keening wind seemed to call my name as it blew through stony passages, and sifted through the bare branches of the trees below.
The flakes grew thicker, circling me with an increasing, rapid intensity. I closed my eyes, and with the absence of light and color there was no cold, no wind, and no ledge. I was inside a silver blue nimbus of snow, and although I couldn’t see anything, I knew with certainty I was flying.
Good-bye….I couldn’t remember his name.
My clothes were starting to unravel from the speed of the swirling snow. I decided to peek, and could only watch in wonder as a blue-white hoarfrost collected on my skin, in the fine hairs, its color leeching onto me. It too, wasn’t cold.
Was I too numb to feel myself dying? They say you feel warm as you freeze to death. Embrace it.
Again, the sense of someone speaking came like a child’s whisper: You’re not dying. You’ll never be more alive.
I closed my eyes again. I had questions, doubts, challenges to this, but I kept silent out of fear that if I spoke against it, I would be cast out. I took a deep breath, and held my peace.
Time meant nothing now; whatever changes were taking place in me were only beginning, and from this white, swirling cocoon I would emerge as something different, formidable, and beautiful.