Chapter 1: Bitter Cold

It stung, it stung like thousands of tiny needles. Who knew that wind could be so very painful. The wind combined with the tortuous cold could truly be a cruel thing to have to endure for so long. He stayed put in his position, not daring to move a muscle in fear that he may be spotted by the enemies. He stayed there and struggled to keep his shivering down to a minimal. These conditions made concentration a difficult and unbearable thing hold out. 'Focus on something.', he told himself repeatedly hoping that his body would listen to his thoughts. He was starting to become numb from the piercing winds and the blistering snow that lied beneath him. War was a cruel thing, but it's cruelty was nothing in comparison to this amount freezing pain. He couldn't stay like this much longer before he would lose feeling altogether; just like he had in his hands and feet.

Different things began to cross his mind. If he wasn't killed by a bullet, then he most certainly would by hypothermia, or even frostbite. He had to move before it started to set in. He checked his surroundings in search of some other cover he could move to. He was currently hidden by a decently sized mound of snow that was slowly being washed away from the wind. Only problem was that he was not well camouflaged. His blue uniform would give him away immediately, that is if they were able to see through the blizzard raging at full force. Then he saw something. It was a long shot, but it was his only hope. Off to his left was a small batch of trees. It wasn't much, yet it would have to do for he had no other choice if he wanted to have a chance at survival. He took a deep breath and felt the cold air bitterly attacking his lungs. He held it there for a few moments before pushing himself forward, stumbling slightly as his legs protested heavily against the sudden movement that was forced upon them. The adrenaline was the only component that was driving the man forward and preventing him from collapsing on the spot.

He reached the trees in what seemed to be ages. Not a single shot was fired which must have meant he went unnoticed. That, or they had been fired and he just couldn't hear them over the constant moaning of the storm. He allowed himself to slide down the trunk of one of the trees and sunk down back into the harsh embrace of the frozen rain. This did not work well to his advantage as his gloves have been severely dampened by this unfortunate weather he was faced with. He ran his finger along the markings upon one of them, unable to feel what he was touching due to the lack of sensory he was left with. "Why did it have to be here?" He asked aloud to himself. His unanswered question was then followed by a sigh of frustration.

He knew the enemies were out there, but he did not know where exactly. He had not seen any sign of them for hours; however, that did not mean that they were not out there, waiting. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike with an ambush. He could only wait as anticipation scratched at his heart, digging it's way out slowly. The wait was tearing away and consuming his sanity. And the cold, it was a non-stop reminder of the utter anguish it was creating. He was truly and completely miserable. It was destroying what little focus he had left on the world around him. It became the only thing he could even think about as he pulled his limbs in closer to the rest of his body in order to try and retain the little body heat that remained in his frozen form. That did little to help the situation.

Within moments he could feel the world seeping through his non-feeling fingers as he approached closer and closer to sleep. He felt so very tired. He wanted so badly to just sleep, but fought hard against that temptation in fear he may not wake back up if he did. That was a risk he absolutely would not take. Sadly, it seemed as though his body was winning the battle over his logic and sense. The light he saw was dimming in front of him, and the roaring of the wind sounded like it was subsiding. And everything was peaceful while the cold agony was dissipating. Within moments he was relaxed and content.

"...el? ...lonel? Colonel?"

He heard a familiar voice, but couldn't quite put a face to it.

"Are you awake?"

Of course he was now. And he was annoyed that someone would rip him away from such a pleasant feeling. "...Hm?" Was all he managed to get out before the coldness around him returned and greeted him fiercely. But there was something else he felt as well, I small hint of warmth. He opened his eyes slightly until he could see a glint of orange in his vision. It was a small fire burning not to far from where he was currently. A little more off to the side he saw another color. This color was a red blur to him, and then he was able to put a face with that voice. "Fullmetal?"

At this the red blur shifted and made it's way closer to him. "So, you are awake. Can't have you dying on us, now can we?"

"We?" Who else was there, he could only see Ed, and he did not hear anyone else's voices other than his. He lifted his head to look around, which was quite difficult because his body did not want to cooperate against the low temperatures. Still, he did not see anyone else. Who was he talking about then?

"Hawkeye went to gather some more firewood, she should be back shortly." Roy only nodded and pushed himself up into a sitting position. With that a wave of dizziness overtook him temporarily. Luckily for him, Ed did not notice. Every movement caused intense stinging all over, almost felt like burning. The cold air must have damaged his skin and made it sensitive. The cold really was a bitter and distasteful bitch. He looked down to his hands which were still clad with his famous ignition gloves. And still they were damp and of no use. Carefully he pulled each one off and unsteadily got to his feet. "Whoa, what do you think you're doing?"

"My gloves are wet, I need to get them dry." He continued towards the fire and gently placed them next to the all-too-familiar flames. The way the danced about and flicked in different directions was enough to sooth and calm him. Almost as if they were a sense of security. For a while he only stood there, losing himself in his admiration for the element. When he finally snapped out of he noticed how dark the sky had become from when he had last seen it. It was night time. Had he really been asleep that long? Yet, he still felt so exhausted

"Sir, glad to see you're alright." He turned to look behind him and saw the woman he trusted more than anyone. She walked up next to him and placed a few pieces of wood on the dying fire and laid the rest nearby. "Are you sure you should moving around?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." That was only partially true. He was in fact fine and unharmed, but he was also in a state misery from the sheer weight of the cold. "We need to head back to our camp. We cannot stay out here in the open like this." This he was right about. There were still enemies out there, and not to mention they had a fire which would easily give away their location.

"Are you sure about that Mustang?" Ed asked, clearly worried. "Shouldn't we wait until tomorrow, you know, when we can see?"

As a response to that question, Roy picked up one of his gloves, which were now dry enough to produce some spark. He snapped his fingers and sent a string of flames in a random direction. "We'll be able to see just fine."

"Good point, but do you even know which way that is?"

"No, but I am assuming that you two had come from there and therefore should remember which way that is. Am I wrong?"

Of course he wasn't. "Fine, I'll lead the way." Ed knew there was no point in arguing; Roy was a stubborn bastard and would have it his way. "Try not to slow us down." Ed gave a playful smirk and began walking in the direction of the military's campsite with flame after flame lighting his path. Minute upon hour they trudged through the thick sheets of cold. Each step becoming more and more torturous than the last. They all wanted to arrive at the camp as soon as possible because the cold world was a bitter one.