"Ah... The snow is really heavy."
Lorenzo lazily lay on the sofa, wrapping himself tightly, like a plump, satiated caterpillar.
"Really heavy... really heavy..."
On the other side, Red Falcon echoed the same sentiment. The two sofas flanked the fireplace, greedily hoarding all the warmth together like hibernating bears, burying themselves under piles of blankets, leaving only their heads exposed.
Squinting, the crackling sound in the fireplace echoed, rising and falling steadily with their breaths.
After the storm, Old Dunling ushered in its cold winter. The remaining un-cleared water solidified in the low temperatures, transforming the streets of Old Dunling into a world of ice and snow, like a city built of countless mirrored surfaces.
This was beautiful, but also terrible.
The slick roads made transportation inconvenient; even before the storm's aftermath was fully dealt with, a group took to the streets, laboriously clearing the roads, breaking the icy patches one by one.
