Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!
This is from NO’VA, Chapter 1.
The story follows Jenario Onyx’s POV as they flee their corrupted city into a snowstorm. I’m really enjoying the frigid descriptions because I haven’t had a chance to do that yet. I hope I hit home by showing how cold it is and how well Jenario takes to freezing weather.
It was easy to lose track of time, especially when everything looked the same. Snow blanketed the earth so deep that Jenario had to carry his small son at times. He worried about the cold getting to him, for every now and then his little body shook in a coughing fit.
Hours turned into days as the group continued to follow Thomas Gracie and Shafari’s guiding light he managed to conjure when nighttime fell. When they finally stopped to set up camp, Nickademis made sure to go around to each family to assess their health. Several had already taken ill in the severe weather, and it was only getting worse.
Jenario was glad Nicholas was around to help pitch the tents. He wanted his family away from the wind as soon as possible, but it was taking longer due to the deep snow. They dug out as much as their numb fingers would allow before nailing long stakes into the hard ground. When they were done securing shelter, Nicholas started toward another family who was struggling to pitch theirs.
“You’ll be all right, Nicholas?” Jenario called after the teen, who replied with a single nod.
After making sure his family was safely inside, Jenario checked a couple of sacks only to discover a low food supply. Wondering how others were fairing, he made his way out in the blustery wind to find Thomas Gracie.
“I’ll be back,” he promised before securing the tent flap once outside. A sudden gust nearly stole his breath, and he staggered back in surprise.
THE COUNCIL NEVER NEEDED TO DO ANYTHING, he thought in disgust. IT WAS ALL A RUSE JUST TO GET US TO LEAVE. THEY KNEW THE WEATHER WOULD FINISH THE JOB!
Holding both sides of his hood, Jenario fought against the wind to locate their leader’s tent. The snow was blinding, often blowing in his eyes with no way to rub out the sting. He flexed his fingers, trying to keep them from cramping up inside his wet gloves. They were not made for this type of weather as he buried them instead beneath his wool cloak. With nothing to keep his hood secure, it blew back in the storm’s fury. Head bowed, Jenario plowed forward.