There is a momentary temptation to start digging. His hands have gone entirely numb from brushing all the snow away. His nose is running, his breathing hadn't slowed.
The cold air constricts his throat, icy inhales into overexerted lungs.
Two. Three. Four, Six, Seven.
No Five. Because he's here. This can't be right, this can't be what it is.
(Failure, a voice in the back of his mind offers him, vicious and familiar. I told you so.)
Eight, three, five, two, two. It doesn't mean anything to him, other than the tumble of questions. Who made the marks? Who made the headstones? He picks one at random - Four Klaus - drops his knees into the snow, and starts clearing it further away, down to the frozen ground.
He doesn't know what the hell he's trying to find, and panic rings loud in his ears.
no subject
The cold air constricts his throat, icy inhales into overexerted lungs.
Two. Three. Four, Six, Seven.
No Five. Because he's here. This can't be right, this can't be what it is.
(Failure, a voice in the back of his mind offers him, vicious and familiar. I told you so.)
Eight, three, five, two, two. It doesn't mean anything to him, other than the tumble of questions. Who made the marks? Who made the headstones? He picks one at random - Four
Klaus- drops his knees into the snow, and starts clearing it further away, down to the frozen ground.He doesn't know what the hell he's trying to find, and panic rings loud in his ears.