The wind is deafening. And the powder embraces the tile in an encompassing white. You sit at the end of where the debris begins. Or rather where the comforts of the mall end.

Steel winces through the wind in shrieks. And you stare out into the vast cold. But you don’t feel anything in particular. You’d say you match the temperature quite well.

It is exhausting dealing with these trolls. You don’t know how Tinora does it. You just want to sleep this off and relax.

A few stray white fractals catch you. They fade into your clothes one by one. You place a hand on the pile that has formed around you, leaving behind a hand shaped crater in its place. You turn to the side and curl up slightly, entrenching yourself in the feeling.

The wind continues and you let your mind wander with it. You begin to hear something else beyond the mall or fallen steel beams.

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