The only sound that dared to accompany the frigid air of winter's
breath was the soft and whispering crunch of hunting boots in the
snow. Slowly they trotted, a set of two, until they finally stopped.
Seconds passed before a loud gun shot exploded in the distance. Hearts
stopped and, as the time slunk slowly, all began to beat but one. One
of the sets of footprints began again and again they stilled. The
whole world seemed to shut down in its confusion until one being dared
to break the chain. A woman, whom had been the one to collide so
gracefully over the ice and slush, crouched ever so swan-like over the
body of a man. The syrup like liquid seeped ever so languidly to twine
the bleak colours with its counterpart that seemed to twinkle as tears
of the angels. The woman's worn and hallowed face seemed to show no
emotions as she slid her pianist fingers to close the fallen being's
eyes. The bullet-wound that flowered around his heart seemed to swell
in an almost joyful manner as the reaper who stood above began to strip him.
First, she scooped up his belongs. Then, after setting them gently
into a lovely, twining woven basket, she began to strip him. The furs
seemed to stick close to the cold body as if striving to keep their
own life, but she pried them apart as if they were glue to a paper.
Once she had gotten the heavily bloodied chest bare to the
none-forgiving winds, her ally came silently and sat next to her. This
was a male of a tall and thin stature. It was obvious that if their
lives were not as sick and twisted as the minutes sickened them with,
he would be a wax of a man. Slight muscles over-lain his gangly arms
that slowly shorned the deceased's lower half. Once they were both set
they stood. The woman gingerly bent herself over and washed her hands
of blood in the crystalized dreams of snow-men. A quiet ringing
emitted from the standing man's pants of fur and he slipped it out
with a careful grace. Cradling it in his gloved hands, he held the
plastic of a cellular phone. It was the best that they could use in
the "wonderland" of white as steel would freeze.
"Hello?" His voice was a surprisingly quiet although it was easily
heard over the quiet humming of the swirling breeze. A louder voice
grumbled over the line and the woman stood with wide, scared eyes. He
shook his head lovingly at her to show all was well and his cabbage
violet eyes lit upon the large gun that lay hauntingly in the basket.
"Yes, Sir. Mister Braginski has been killed. From his body we claimed
a multitude of items-" The voice picked up right as he finished and
the man stood in a tense and rather irked fashion. The woman next to
him gazed intently at the ground. If her emerald eyes were able to
transmit her emotions, the slush would be melted in a pool by her
dainty and fur clad boots.
"Yes, Sir. Yes. One shot," The man continued, pausing slightly when he
was interrupted again and again. "Yes… Yes, we are sure he is dead.
No, Sir. No breath. No heartbeat. Yes, I-… No, I-…" Finally it looked
as if he had snapped and his voice raised only two octones, yet the
whole world seemed to cringe at his cool and dangerous tone. "Sir. I
am Matthew fucking Williams. You were the one who hired me and I
suggest you take it from a professional bounty hunter that the man is
fucking dead." Silence fulfilled the sky now lit ablaze with yellows
and reds that danced upon his light blond hair. The small looped curl
that normally slightly obstructed his vision was pushed to the side
that was not occupied by his hand. He nodded and, realising his
receiver couldn't see it, he returned his voice back to normal.
"I know, Sir. I've heard stories. But the man is laying in front of me
at this very moment. All of his items have been confiscated and his
clothes have been gathered. If he had not died from the wound, then
the cruel breath of the Earth cradled his head into eternal slumber."
Finally he relaxed his stance and took a deep breath of the nipping
air. Finally he nodded and snapped the plastic shut with a glance to
the woman by his side. She was now looking at him, emerald-green eyes
flaming like the vegetation of the Scottish moors where she grew up.
They were worried and her frail body began to sway in the slight
breeze. She was terribly strong physically as opposed to her appearance
but the weakness was only showed to her mate. Matthew felt his heart
melt as he wrapped his arms around her. The fur that encased both of
them didn't allow for much sensuality. No where in this wasteland of
Russia would let them and even Matthew's homeland of Canada, and their
current living place, would allow them to do more than hug as they
would adore to. She trembled in his c comforting hold and he kept her
clutched into him until he deemed it time to break.
"Holly, darling. We should be getting home. It's starting to get dark,
eh?" She looked up at him with a face full of light freckles as the
fading light glimmered into her gaze. Holly stole his breath away as
the only thing on Earth that he'd dare feel a tender spot for.
Eventually she nodded, her head of frazzled brown banana curls
bouncing on her shoulders. Holly clutched the basket and snuggled
close to Matthew. He smiled and kissed the top of her before gathering
the surprisingly heavy clothing into his arms. They had been living in
this crater for over a month now, surviving in the wilderness the best
that they could. After living off the funds of Matthew's bounty
hunting and Holly's weaving, they were considered the highest of
classes. In two months they would be plumped up again and chuffed as a
pigeon. Squeezing her eyes shut against the harsh glare of the gray
and white world that attempted to clasp her sanity and crack it to a
slash of pieces (1). Matthew guided her along with a slight importance,
knowing how hard it would be to survive the night in general, especial
in the middle of this… plane of pain. The night had just begun to
creep over the scouring fires of the sky and subdue them to sleep as
the couple stumbled upon the plot they were looking for. A mansion
loomed ahead if them, an eerie light protruding through grimy windows
that seemed to squeak with age even as they stood still. Holly
whimpered slightly as her strength and courage slipped away in the
past 31 days. Clouds slithered above them and a loud crack tore apart
their souls. Holly clung to Matthew horrified, burying her face in
his shoulder. Lightening had been her rival since she had been a
child. Her parents had been stolen away and although she had 4
brothers to protect her, her heart tore its seams a bit more at every
steaming second. He rubbed her arm warmly as the rain poured upon
them, sheets on sheets of tears wept by the souls of clouds. Taking a
deep breath, Matthew kicked down the door with a strength that no one
could think of him to have. She trailed in like a bee and sat herself
on a covered couch, dust rising in an opaque cloud in front of her. A
loud, bloody scream e emitted from the area where she had gone and
Matthew ran to her.
"Holly? Damn it, Holly?!"
1: a slash of pieces: Several large and neatly split segments