#tiny tiny tiny

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.” The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.  “You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”