Clutching a stalk of frozen wheat in her grasp, the seedy head bowing heavy and hard with ice, she lets it drop to the ground. As an afterthought, she grinds it down with the toe of her boot, the hard seed barely denting the cold dirt. Not that it’ll do any good. If anything grows lately, the wind rips it right out of the ground or the snow freezes it before anything can come of it. [AU - Historical]
The very first gust of this wind - some three days back, now - had set her skin to prickling, and now... now her entire body was thrumming from the force of it.