The wind snapped at the tent. I wound the tent door up and peaked out for a view of the glamourous mountain peaks and dripping icicles. I bit my lip as the frosty air froze me. Veering towards a waterhole frozen, coated with ice gleaming the reflection as if it was a mirror. My feet crunched like cornflakes in the hard crispy snow. Wind whipped over the horizon blaring a vigorous aroma of noise. Identifying the isolation I tramped back through the snow back to more warmth of a soft sleeping bag.
Jenna
Jenna