Winter is hollow and despondent. It is a white abyss that slowly kills any warmth or creature. It is almost as if Death has taken its scythe—a harsh, glinting blade of silver—and forcibly dragged it through the Earth until the only upturn is rough ice. Yet beneath the snow, there lie the dead. Winter and Death are siblings, callously taking anything the Wilderness dares to give. For the Wilderness is their mother, and She will continue to give her starving children a feast. She is akin to a mother robin, churning up earthworms for her nestlings while their hungry beaks gawk in anticipation.
Yet the Wilderness is an intangible being that manifests in their actions. It materializes in their greedy, bloody lips and starved fangs that bite into every piece of flesh so graciously given. Ever since they consumed Jackie, nothing has been the same. Or perhaps it went further than that- back to the night the Wilderness took her. Truly, nothing has been the same since that night.
(The caterwaul of Shauna's screams still linger in her mind).
She shivers.
The cabin floor is cold against Melissa's back. Even through layers of clothing, the cold nips at her skin. The constant nagging cold is something none of them can get rid of, even with the crackle of flames or huddling together. Soft murmurs echo in the room, but she has learned to tune it out. Most of it is depressing these days- nothing her ears want to hear when her mind is already screaming. Or maybe her mind has fuzzed over like the puffball of a dandelion nearing its end. One strong breath from Winter or Death and she could easily phase away. All of them could, really.
Except-
Would that not be merciful, at this point?
"I hope Nat and Travis are able to catch something," Gen mutters beside her, rubbing at her eyes. A yawn escapes her lips. "I don't know how much longer we can live off Mari's increasingly creative soups. First belt soup, but what about next week? I hope it's not chair or pillow soup."
"It's the middle of Winter. I don't think-" Her voice trails off, ignoring Gen's joke. Melissa's eyes wander, having a mind of their own, and they settle on Shauna. The pregnant woman is sitting next to the fire. Her blank face stares into the flames, but there is no suggestion that Shauna is truly there. Lost in thought, or perhaps just simply lost, she is a wolf that has been exiled from its pack. She has been that way ever since Jackie died. A melancholic creature that howls and grieves for what it has lost. "I don't think they will catch something," She grimly finishes. "But, we need food. More than ever."
Gen follows her gaze, glancing over at the fireplace. She attempts to smile, but it comes out as a grimace. "I agree," She says. "Maybe I can ask Nat to teach me. The more hunters, the better."
They lock eyes, both a mutual understanding: The child will not live in these conditions. But, they do not dare breathe those words aloud.
"I'm cold," Melissa mentions. "I'm going to sit next to the fireplace, do you want to come with?"
"I think I'm going to try sleeping," Gen shakes her head. "Wake me if anything happens?"
Nothing will. Time moves cruelly.
"I will," She promises, clasping their hands together. She gives her friend's shaking fingers a quick squeeze, ignoring the way they feel thinner each day underneath her skin. Melissa frowns. "Just rest, okay? You need it."
"Will do," Her eyes are already closing.
Her feet find their way at the bottom of Shauna's chair. She doesn't acknowledge her when Melissa sits down, just continues to stare into the flames. The heat dances on their skin and both of them share that embrace of the fire. Perhaps the silence is what Shauna needs, and Melissa is happy to oblige— happy to just sit in her presence and gaze into the erratic heat.
Maybe, eventually, they will speak.
For now, there is no need— no purpose of her words.
Maybe their moment that wasn't anything became something. Later that night, to Melissa's surprise, Shauna moves her blankets and makeshift nest next to her. They're a few feet away from the fire, so perhaps the warmth is why, but it still causes something to jump in her chest. She dumbly stares as the other woman curls into her blankets, slightly out of breath from the movement.
"What?" Shauna snaps, noticing the blonde gaping. Her brown eyes pool with emotion. Perhaps insecurity. Or annoyance. Maybe a concoction of both that leap into her words. "Am I not allowed to sleep here? I didn't realize this spot was taken."
"You are," Melissa stutters.
"Then?" Shauna sneers, but she looks sad. Her chapped lips are pouty, and part of Melissa thinks if she bites hard enough she would meet soft flesh. That beneath the layers of chapped skin, there is an undefinable softness she yearns to dig her teeth into. Not Cannibalism, not love, but something. Perhaps a tether between the two- an anchor that holds the vessel in place. Yet, Melissa doesn't dare kiss her, not like this. Not when it wouldn't amount to anything.
"Nothing, sorry," She says.
Shauna looks tragically beautiful. The flames cast a warm glow on her skin and her brunette hair cascades down her face. But there are bags under her eyes, and her flushed cheeks are hollow. This is the face of someone who is grieving, who cannot love— but what does Melissa know about love? She's never been in love. What do any of them know about anything when they're all skin and bones waiting around for Death?
Shauna says nothing, just turns around so her back is facing her. Melissa obediently falls into the silence.
Together, they lay side by side.
It is enough.
Spring is on the horizon, but Winter's breath is a saddened lullaby that lulls them to sleep.