Yuki carried the fragile body on his back, and amongst the thick veil of snow, he ran as fast as he could before the snowstorm caught up to him. His eyes lashes were covered in snow, his feet were cold and numb, but his sight remained serene. As if a thick pair of hands had grasped his neck; his breath choked, and he could barely breathe. The picturesque sight of death. It was beautiful, even enthralling.
'But I can't die now' He vowed. His crisp steps on the soft snow left footsteps which were traced away by the wind. He followed the smoke in the air, leading him to the little cluster of houses in grey.
From afar, a few women who carried a bamboo basket on their backs took a keen look at him. Realizing that he was one of the guests, a lady left the sight while others made their way to their houses.
