I swear I can feel my feathers freezing. My wings seem to grow stiffer with each passing minute, and the scarf wrapped around my nose and mouth does practically nothing to protect me from the harsh wind. Icy crystals blow into my face and cut at every inch of exposed skin. I can barely see anything through the flurry of snowflakes but hope flares in my chest at the sight of a vague shadow in the white cloud. As I get closer, I sigh in relief. The rock wouldn't be much warmer but at least it would give me a little shelter against the storm. I find a small overhang in the rock formation—well, I suppose it's closer to a mountain. It's significantly colder up here and it's slowly getting harder and harder to breathe. I can instantly feel the rise in temperature as I finally escape the wind, but the chill in my bones lingers. I close my fist then spread my fingers, relaxing when a small fire springs to life on the rocky floor. I don't know if it will continue burning once I fall asleep