A Demon of Midwinter: Part 9

Frigid water seeped into Rhys’ shoes despite his hop-skip-jump around the puddles. He tugged his scarf tighter around his neck as fat blobs of icy liquid fell from branches and tried to snake down his back. He pulled his cap lower over his ears. None of it did much good keeping the chill out. Tucking his hands in his pockets, his right bumped up against the jar of salt. He hunched his shoulders and grimaced at the wet ground, hoping a briny circle was enough.

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