Saturday's Storyteller: "She looked at the fog her breath made on the window as the trees rushed past."
by Belinda Roddie She looked at the fog her breath made on the window as the trees rushed past. The inside of the car was uncomfortably, and unnaturally, cold. Even the palms of her hands resonated no heat, the tips of her fingers refusing to thaw no matter how much she rubbed them together. Mistress Kor had told her that there would be two others with her, in the reasonably sized estate on the outskirts of Zeneda. What she hadn't told Arvey, however - that is, until the very last minute, having noticed the admittedly meager supply of clothes the girl had packed into an admittedly, and stubbornly, small suitcase - was that the stay was more than just a day or so. And as it were, they would not always be meandering the corridors of the honorable mansion, but instead traveling to the alpine tundra beyond, into a world of frost that Arvey was not accustomed to dealing with. Particularly due to her smaller, more emaciated frame. Examining the way the condensation gathered on her