Lyra's knuckles hit the wood of the door, the sound it made was barely louder than the wind that blew through the wall of the old houses in the small rogue village keeping her hopes high.
She waits for a reply with her faint breath through thin air her eyes gazing on the hope in her heart.
Finally, the door opened, and Lyra said
"Please...Just a little food"
Her voice sounds like a whisper with its echoes at the edges of the house.
Behind the curtain of the house, she sees a shadow moving slowly and deliberately in the house, it made her chest fill with a ray of hope moving inside of her, a fragile thing she tries to believe in.
The boards of the house beneath her bare feet bite her now-rough skin but she doesn't move or flinch at all, despite the pain. She can't miss the moment the door is opened.
The shadows linger inside, watching her closely, she feels the shadows weight on her delicately dry skin, with the silent treatment biting deeper than the hunger she felt.
Seconds became minutes with a long wait dawning on her, cold began to creep into her body, she swallowed the dryness in her throat, which scraped like sand, but the door remained.
The curtain remained still with its light dimmed and it's state still.
Lyra's heart sank; she was tired. Although she wasn't surprised, she learnt how her hope could be crushed at different points in time.
She lowers her head, thinking if the knock she placed was too loud, or even too desperate by the owners of the house.
The wind answered her instead, bringing her scent of warm bread.
After standing a while, she lifts her head and the door shifts open slightly, from the opening only a single eyes come out staring at her closely with a fixed gaze.
The dim light from inside the house shone and made the rogue collar on Lyra's neck gleam with its appearance, cold and merciless.
Immediately, the door opened the gaze which fell on Lyra changes. Lyra felt the gaze like a slap hitting her, and the way the silence grew heavier.
Her lips trembled with words trying to air out from her mouth, but she kept mute, no plea will change what they figure thinks about her.
The collar on her neck felt heavier, pressing down on her shoulders, dragging her feet into the earth beneath her, her heart beat faster, she was filled with anxiety.
She tries to keep her eyes on the narrow gap, finding warmth, but she only finds the glaring stare.
The air smelled faintly of warm stew; it taunted her while she stood outside, unwelcome on the cold earth.
Then finally, the door shifts again, not wide but slammed shut on her face, and it strikes her chest like a blow. She stands still for a long time, staring at the door, but nothing happens. She turns away.
The sound of the door was still louder than any other voice to her. She stared at the surface once again, but saw nothing, only a barrier that felt thicker than forest wood and colder than stone.
With her hands by her side, and her fingers curling together, the air is sharp against her lungs, with the cold going deep into her.
Somewhere inside the closed door, she hears it when a chair scrapes the floor, with murmur and chatter, their life continuing without her.
She pressed her lips, which were dry together, trying to make them still while they trembled. She felt discomfort in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
The winds moved with the scent of smoke and bread, which only made her more anxious because she was hungry; she knew if she knocked again, the door wouldn't open.
She looked at the dirt on her feet with her shadow gleaming across the moon, with her collar tighter.
She goes away slowly, leaving the house whose door was slammed to her face, she moved forward with cold hitting her soles.
She saw another house ahead, its windows were dim, with smoke leaving its chimney, carrying the heavy scent of bread and warm stew, the scent of food something she wanted badly.
Her chest tightens, and the taste of ash from the last door, which slammed on her face she couldn't forget.
She finally turns away from the door with each step feeling heavier than the previous one, as if the cold had eaten deep into her, the houses ahead in the rogue village were blurred in her sight
Behind her, the door stands silent. No apology. No explanation. Only the echo of its closing still beat against her ribs like the slow, cruel reminder of everything she has lost.
Behind her, the door that was shut to her remained closed and silent, with no apology or words spoken; only the echo of its closing was what she could remember to remind her of everything she had lost.
Cold hung in the air she breathed. The narrow lane of the village was filled with ice, stretching long and thin.
She stood there, her breath rising with hunger in her and the cold on her body like shards of glass
Behind her, the villagers closed their door, and the faint murmurs that she heard with her name on it now resonated to nothing.
The silence pressed against her ears, broken only by the thumping of her heartbeat
The wind went through the houses carrying the smoke of chimneys and something metallic; it tugged her body and lifted strands of hair, but did not make her move at all.
The lane she moved through seemed endless now, with darkness stretching everywhere
Her hands felt the cold so much but she didn't keep them away; she wanted to feel the sting of the night.
Each breath she took made her lungs strain, but she still breathed slower and slower as she was listening for something in the dark, something that never came.