The stars shine down on her and the frozen field beneath her feet. Small clouds drifting from her mouth, she stares towards the east. She stares and wishes with all her might that there will be another sunrise. She hopes her wishes will somehow affect the matter for the better.
Some might say that another sunrise was as probable as time passing, but seeing the clear starry moonless sky, the stiffened grass which can be broken off with a crunch and feeling the cold growing ever more intense, she is not so sure. And she feels that she has to do something, even if that something is only staring towards the east and hoping for the best. Because if she just stopped concentrating, if she just went home or did something else and there was never another sunrise, she would forever regret not doing the little she was able.
So she stands still, staring, hoping. And hopefully, another sunrise will come before she becomes as stiff as the frozen grass.
A Bolg? 