Trapped alone in hollow log, ice and frost close around all exits, driving out the air, providing small amounts of ironic heat.
The heat is simple illusion. Fake and a trick of the mind.
The cold creeps in around the heat, edging in along the black sides of vision.
Slowly drawing in the shallow breaths as air grows ever thinner.
Tears freeze along pale cheeks, delicate icicles.
Soon limbs grow stiff.
Consciousness fades to black.
Heart once warm and rhythmic, now as still and cold as ice.
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