A Breath of Chill

Stiffness gives way along my joints. I steady my stance upon the tiled floor, drawing in the silent air. Before me stands a figure cast entirely in pale, frosted blue, suspended atop jagged spires. I extend my forward hand, fingers loosening until my fingertips lightly brush the solid chill of its sleeve. The cold is firm and still. I lower my weight, maintaining an unbroken guard as I hold this newfound breath.

2 Nauks