…pale, dirty hands that reached from the darkness. Pale, dirty hands with red raw stumps of fingers that extruded scab-like leaves.
“Autumn?” Gasped Winter, “Oh my sister, what have they done to you?!”
Autumns hollow eyes gleamed sickly in a face that had once been round and cheerful, her once vibrant red hair streaked now with grey.
“Give me warmth sister?” She croaked, “Cold, so cold…” Her ravaged body slipping back into darkness as crystal tears formed on Winters perfect cheeks . The snowflake in her eye throbbed with cold as she found the Head Feeder, her hands around his neck tightening as relentlessly as only Winters grip could be, his pleas going unheeded.
The torch was ensconced above a carelessly left pile of rank straw, the only eyes to see her knock it from the wall were the eyes of the Buckle children, swivelling madly in their sockets as their heads swung from her belt, jaws working soundlessly above their tattered, truncated throats as she stalked towards the whoreless carriage.