Breath drawn in through your nose instantly freezes bristling hairs to each other, fastening in an icy grip. Extremities fall one by one in an uncomfortably familier progression, as cold chills give way to the complete absence of feeling. Beneath your skis snow makes uncharacteristically abrasive sounds as though writhing in pain, it cries out breaking and reshaping under the pressure. In frozen mountain air the voice of bullwheels and steel cable also cary a different voice in frigid weather, creaking and moaning with frighting clarity and amplification.
Winter is Coming