FaceFic

Blood drips onto the snow leaving bright red welts. Laboured breathing gropes the frigid air. The crisp white is torn by two sets of ragged footprints ending in a crumpled mass. “Come on husband, get up!” the woman wails, her voice broken beyond tears. On her knees, she tugs at his clothing and beats at his shoulders; her hands too cold to close into fists. The snow swallows her moans, and the hounds are closing in.