She lost all of the feeling in her delicate fingers long ago. Every inch of her skin under every layer was first turned red, purple, now blue. Her hands were the most important to her, how they produced life for her. She wrote her music, stories, and carried every word with a simple gesture of the hand. Her hands to her was what made her extraordinary.
She could easily loose them now, her toes were soon to be chopped off along with them. Nothing stopped her from trudging through this horrible trench of snow. The blizzard knocked her balance to and fro, yet continued her walking. She had no goal; no destination. No way of knowing, North or South, East nor West she kept going. Her thoughts were of nothing. Only white as the snow. It was a blinding bright white, without any light.
Lips chapped, feathery light hair covered with specks of snow and the skin exposed raw, the pain overcame her and she fainted. Bloody footprints followed to her empty body through the snow, from when the ice slashed her boots into nothing.
Calm footsteps approached the small lump of snow. Strong arms pulled her up from the heavy blanket of snow and quickly made pace away.
There was a man that found her, he was definitely tall. Almost intimidating, though his only guest would for sure not be; for she was slipping in and out of consciousness. In the dim room she could make out a stern, worried face with a more prominent nose, but gradually blacked out into strangely familiar darkness.