CHAPTER SONG: "Come Back to Us" by Thomas Newman (from the '1917' soundtrack)
*The song lyrics to "One Song" from Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, written by Larey Morey and Frank Churchill
TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter makes references to suicide. Read at your own risk!
On December 1st, the early snowflakes of winter floated down from the sky as the graying clouds obscured the moon above the Blake property. A chill of freezing wind floated through the frigid air as William Schofield carried a peacefully sleeping Emmanuelle Hunterson outside from the house. His arms cradled her close and ever so gently to his chest; her chaotically curled head nestled between his shoulder and throat.
Her petite body felt alarmingly weightless as the silently bereaved corporal held her, Emmy's muscle mass having decreased from her limited diet of liquids due to her comatose condition. Even when she was bundled in her warmest dressing gown and thickest stockings, she bore the lightness of a ragdoll as he carried her to the canopy tent constructed by Joseph Blake which sheltered the bed she would rest upon, where she belonged underneath the cherry trees.
Several tiny snowflakes clung to his face as he blinked them away off his eyelashes, seeing how numerous other flakes landed in her chocolate tresses, adorning the top of her head like teardrops shimmering in the evening light.
Will stared straight ahead at the tent, seeing Joseph Blake standing at the flap entrance, both men's eyes meeting one another as they prepared to lay their girl to rest...
If she should wake up...
She had to wake up...
The lieutenant nodded silently to the corporal in wordless communication, his jaw clenching with repressed emotion as he glanced at the impassive face of the American woman both Englishmen loved. Joseph swore that with each passing day she lay in lifeless repose, in fragile emaciation, her beauty remained untarnished in his eyes.
He held the tent flap open, allowing William to step inside the shelter, his hands clutching onto the edge of the makeshift entrance as though to keep his hands under control. He wanted more than anything to hold Emmy close himself, to never leave this tent and kneel at her side as she awoke from this wretched spell of eternal slumber.
And yet she only had a few weeks left until her fate would be decided if she didn't open her eyes soon. Until the chime of the New Year's bells...
As Will passed him through the tent entrance, Joe looked away from his comrade and saw the slight figure of Molly walking through the falling snow as well, a bundle of fabric in her hands as she came into view, bathed in ivory snow.
Joe listened to the rustlings of Will adjusting the thick sheets and blankets around Emmy as he delicately laid her in the bed he had so lovingly carved for her. With the wintry weather approaching, Emmy's warmth had to be a priority.
The raven haired lieutenant surveyed the younger corporal slowly lay the brunette angel whom they loved amongst the massive pillows, allowing her gloriously elongated waves of hair to pool around her head and shoulders, woven with white snowdrops tied through silk ribbons courtesy of Cici and Elle, who had both lain sleeping in the parlor.
Molly came through the entrance and Joe sealed the flap to enclose the warmer air inside. In her arms, she held a bundle of blankets, including a multicolored quilt that Joe didn't recognize. The two men turned to face her, meeting the older woman's own blue eyes. "She gets cold real easily, Will probably told you, Joseph. This quilt was sewn by our mother before he was born. This will be the best one to keep Emmy from the chill... she'll need to wake up in a warm cocoon and know that she's safe."
Joe only nodded in silent understanding, a small smile perking at the corners of his lips. He was afraid if he said anything, nothing would emerge but incoherent blubbering.
Will briefly met the lieutenant's eyes as he took a couple blankets from Molly's arms, unfolding them to drape over Emmy's lower body, blinking back his own tears at the visual of his beloved's still unconscious state, her lovely face unmoving with no expression or life within her. The gauntness of her cheeks was more noticeable than ever as her skin stretched over the bones, her closed eyelids and lips darkened with a grey shadowed tint.
"My love, we made this bed and shelter for you. And these blankets will keep you protected from the cold." Will carefully spread-out the Schofield family quilt, patched and sewn with various embroidered colors ranging from the brightest apple red to dark inky indigo, and placed the full length fabric up to her chin. He imprinted a kiss in the center of her forehead, his eyelids closing in an attempt to keep from sobbing aloud over her in front of Joseph and Molly.
He caressed her brown hair, making sure the decorative flowers in her curls hadn't been loosened as he laid her in bed, then kissed away the snowflakes that had clung to her eyelashes. Will stood up, straightening himself as he turned to face his comrade and his sister.
"We'll need to take turns guarding her, at least during the night. Someone needs to be here for her when she wakes up." Will flitted his hardened gaze between Molly and Joe, watching the older soldier set their torch lights from their respective army kits on both sides of Emmy's bed to keep the area illuminated.
Candles were too hazardous to have around the tent in case they fell over...
"Agreed." Joseph spoke for the first time in hours, nodding his head toward Will as Molly did the same while wiping away a stray tear off her cheek. "I'll stay with her tonight. You both go home and get proper rest for Cecelia and Giselle."
Will briefly turned away from them to hover over Emmy one more time to place one more kiss to her forehead before departing from the tent. The corporal removed his brown heavy coat and placed it around Molly's shoulders as she began shivering.
"Thank you, Joe. We'll be back tomorrow in the morning." Molly pulled the coat around herself, fitting her arms into the long sleeves. "Take care of her."
"I will... I promise." Joe responded, his voice clear and affirmative with each word, leaving no room for doubt.
"Thank you." Will responded with all his gratitude in those two words toward his friend. He managed to glance one more time at Emmy's motionless form on the bed before he led Molly out of the tent with his arm around her waist to keep her warm with his body heat.
Joe sighed to himself as he knelt by her bedside, reaching under the blankets and pulling out her arm, clad in a thick cotton sleeve as her nightgown clothed her, and he held her hand in his with all the tenderness he possessed.
The lieutenant's other hand stroked her mahogany hair at the top of her head, sprinkled with snowdrops. Joe lifted her hand up to his bristled cheek, feeling the coolness of her fingers against his skin as he listened to her faint breathing from her nostrils.
His choked voice brokenly whispered to her. "Keep holding on, my dearest one. You still have time to beat this. I don't believe there's anything you cannot do..."
He trailed off as he placed a kiss on her tiny fingertips, closing his eyes as he laid his bearded cheek upon her stomach, needing to reassure himself that she was still alive.
Only in that instant did he miss the signals from Emmy... her lips opened a millimeter, allowing inhalation of air into her mouth and her eyelids erratically moving as though she were trapped in a dream...
After several moments, Joe opened his bloodshot eyes again and she remained frozen as though she had never even moved.
.
.
In the days following Emmanuelle being laid to rest in her canopy bed tent, Surrey's own "sleeping beauty" underneath the wintry cherry blossom trees, she always had someone at her side, keeping vigilant watch over her in the event she awakened.
Will would bring her a different flower to hold in her hands every couple of days. Most of them would be white to match the snow falling around them. Every now and then, stray snowflakes would float through the tent flap and cling into her hair, along with the white petals sprinkled all around her body and the snowdrops woven into her brunette locks.
Every week, Joe or Will would take turns reading to her. She had her favorites and both men would read out her favorite sections, praying their words and voices speaking the story to her would work in reviving their precious girl.
On a night in the first week of December, Joe read out to her Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, the book in one hand and his other hand holding hers. And to his silent amusement despite his melancholy, the lieutenant couldn't help but be reminded of his own temperament in Edward Rochester, yet he recalled Emmy referring to himself as "Heathcliff"...
And he arrived to the chapter with Jane suddenly leaving Rochester, which was reminiscent of Joe's nightmare with Emmy suddenly having vanished from his room and his calling out to her in a hysterical panic.
He had to stop himself from reading any further before he was about to throw the book outside into the snow or tear the pages out in a rage. His hands shut the book, slamming the hardcover onto the inked paper and placing the book at his feet before looking up to see Emmy, hoping to calm himself.
Joseph Blake had to keep himself in check, be the better man for her...
On shaking legs, he stood up and leaned over Emmanuelle to adjust the blankets up to her chin as he heard the wind blowing in a turbulent gust. The stakes holding the tent down were strong enough to keep everything inside safe, which was his priority when the idea of this bed for Emmy being outside was suggested.
He spoke to her softly, his voice husky with disuse, having not spoken much in the past few days as he stroked a few strands of hair off Emmy's forehead, absorbing the sight of her nearly as pale as the sparkling precipitation around them, her sunken cheeks emphasizing her malnourishment despite everyone's efforts to feed her.
"Dearest one... should you awaken soon... I hope to ask if you could change your nickname of affection for me. I would rather be a 'Rochester' than a 'Heathcliff' in your eyes." He scoffed to himself at his words to her, yet a warmth of joy bloomed in his heart as he imagined her reaction to his request. "I know that sounds silly, but I don't have anything to really care about other than you... without Tom and Mum. All I would want to be the rest of my life is a man worthy of you, your equal and your likeness... for Will is a better man than I could hope to be. I'm but a broken shell of a person now."
He paraphrased a few of Rochester's words to Jane in his marriage proposal from the book, a saddened smile crawling on his lips as he bent down to kiss Emmy's eyelids, the tip of his index finger tracing down the bridge of her dainty nose.
Emmanuelle Hunterson should have been laid to rest on the top of a green grassy hill, with the sun's golden rays shining on her after dawn accompanied with the melodies of birdsong, and the moonlight bathing her at dusk with shooting stars as her companions.
She deserved better than a flimsy tent underneath dying trees in the cold arctic of the English winter...
He heard footsteps as he grabbed up the book from the ground, glancing back at her unmoving body for a moment before Molly entered through the tent flap, wrapped in a thick coat that seemed to be borrowed from Will and her neck enfolded in a scarf, a steaming bowl of soup in her hands.
It was just the two of them tonight. Will was keeping Cici and Elle back at the Schofield house to still keep a normal routine for them since they were being protected from the exact specifics of their Aunt Emmy's condition.
They both exchanged small, silent smiles of acknowledgement before Joe left the tent, clutching onto the book in his hands as he went inside to warm himself.
Joe ascended up the stairs, removing his own winter garb. His legs were weighing heavily with each step as he went to the washroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, ragged and exhausted. His ebony hair had grown darker and thicker with the cold weather, his matching beard covering the whole lower half of his face. He had never allowed his facial hair to grow this much in his life, so much he didn't recognize himself. In the span of a few months, he was a far cry from the clean cut fresh faced lieutenant with a roughish disposition and plans for medical school before war had been declared and he had enlisted.
He removed his shaving kit from the mirror cabinet, and carefully trimmed the scraggly ends of his beard before shaving down every inch of his chin, then his jaw and then above his lips. To his astonishment, Joe's hands remained steady as he assembled control within himself with the razor, delicately removing the hair growing from his skin until he looked like himself again.
Like the man Will and Emmy had met on that fateful day of April 7th...
You look good, Joe. Mum wishes she could be there with you and help with Emmy.
"What if she doesn't wake up, Tom? I can't live anymore without her. Those months after she vanished back to 2020... and I was without you and Mother... the silence and loneliness nearly killed me in this house." Joe looked at his smooth, freshly washed face in the mirror, clutching onto the edge of the water basin.
She's strong, Joe. She'll wake up by the time the New Years' bell rings.
"Don't you dare give me hope!" He seethed more to himself than to Tom, storming out of the washroom and making his way into his childhood bedroom. "Hope is a dangerous thing, we all know that. She said herself in her letters to me, our souls are one and the same... so if she dies... then so shall I."
Tom's voice didn't reply in his head as Joseph looked through his army kit bag that he'd kept high in the closet out of reach of the children. After some rummaging, he found what he was looking for.
His .455 inch caliber Webley revolver.
Momentarily in his soldier mode, Joe removed the remaining rounds from the pistol's chamber...
All except one. A single bullet was all he would need.
When the time came after midnight on New Year's Day, should Emmanuelle Julia Hunterson, his love, be dead, then he would follow her soon after.
And then he would see her once more with Thomas and their beloved mother and the pain of loss would no longer torment him. He would be at peace again...
.
.
For Christmas Eve, Emmy's tent was flooded with vases of ivory and scarlet poinsettias, mistletoe branches hanging on the bedframe and a holly wreath placed in her lap beneath her petite folded hands.
Her nightdress was threaded from glittering satin and velvet lacing, her fragile body swimming in the fabric as she glowed and sparkled, every inch of her a Yuletide angel of mortal flesh, clothed in Heaven's clouds and starlight from the cosmos; her chocolate hair fastened into a waterfall braid woven with white and red rosebuds.
William, Molly and the girls laid presents for her at the foot of the bed amidst the piles of poinsettias in the fashion of placing gifts underneath a Christmas tree.
Joseph couldn't bring himself to buy a gift for her... a gift she would never open with her own two hands, never smile in joy upon receiving or laugh in thanks as she embraced him in her arms. Instead, he placed Thomas' ribbon upon the neckline of her frock, above her faint heartbeat. The final remaining artifact of his dear brother was the only thing Joe had left to give her for strength.
He wanted to give her everything he possessed to express his unreciprocated love.
And the lieutenant wouldn't dare voice his doubts about her chances with waking up...
Cici and Elle each placed kisses on Emmy's cheeks before going inside the house to warm up with some hot cocoa.
"Merry Christmas, Auntie Emmy. We hope you like your presents we got for you." Cici cooed in her small soft voice.
"We love you. We'll make lots of snow angels when you wake up and it'll be fun." Elle smiled her gap-toothed grin, missing one of her front baby teeth.
The three adults couldn't help but envy the children's naiveté, yet they admired Cecelia and Giselle in their optimism.
Molly stepped forward, feeling some of the chilling breeze blow through the tent flap as she beckoned the girls to follow her. "Come along inside the house, girls. We'll have to go home soon and get to bed for Santa tonight."
Both girls giggled as they sprinted from the tent at the mention of St. Nicholas. Molly took advantage of their distraction, bending down to adjust a curl of hair off Emmy's pale forehead. She turned to the two men remaining in the tent flanking both sides of the tent entrance.
"She's running out of time. Look at how sickly she is. I can't let my girls see her like this anymore." Molly looked at Joe as she spoke that last sentence, meeting his darkened blue eyes. "We may need to say our proper goodbyes to her soon."
Will stepped up to his sister, towering several inches over her as he placed his hands on her shoulders. He didn't believe his words himself, as though Tom was speaking to her through Will's voice. "Molly, don't say that. We can't let her die... God surely can't be so cruel to bring her back only to take her away again."
"And yet we can't say the same for my brother and mother. Or the millions of boys who will never come home." Joe pulled out his lighter, clicking it open and closed with his shaking hands, instantly regretting his words as soon as they spilled from his lips.
Both Will and Molly stared in stunned silence at the ebony-haired man, his jaw clenching with internal anger. He felt the corporal's blue eyes flaming with silent anger toward him, seeing his body tense up for an argument before relaxing at Molly's touch on his forearms.
The last thing any of them needed was a fight, especially in Emmy's tent and on Christmas.
Before he could say anything that would provoke Will, Joe gave a wordless, sorrowful look at their girl's slumbering face before turning and exiting the tent and closing the flap behind him.
Will gently pulled himself away from Molly and knelt down by Emmy's bedside, removing the wreath under her hands and setting it to the side so he could cradle her fingers with his own. His St. Christopher still tangled within her tiny digits as he kissed her fingertips. He felt Molly place a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
Tears of liquid icicles burned William's cheeks as he held Emmy's soft palm to his face, feeling her cool skin empty of her inviting warmth. Like she indeed was slowly dying before him, hour by hour, day by day...
"Please, God...please. I'll ask nevermore for anything else for the rest of my days if You would let her open her eyes and speak and walk and laugh again. In the name of Your Son for whom we celebrate tonight, please grant us this miracle and allow Emmanuelle to be revived and welcome her into a new life with all of us who treasure her so."
Will and Molly both bowed their heads, closing their eyes in prayer as the snow blew outside in a flurried gust of wind.
And a single tear dropped from Emmy's eye and down her temple, her porcelain features remaining motionlessly still ...
In the distance, they could hear Joseph grunting and yelling in frustration as he struck a nearby trunk of an orchard tree with a fallen branch, releasing his wrath as he envisioned the woman who had held him with such selfless compassion at the Devons' camp being embalmed like a painted doll and enclosed in a wooden box to be buried in the ground.
And in his fury, he foolishly imagined she would be interred next to the graves of his brother and mother, with a gold wedding band and elegant engagement ring on her scarred finger, with her tombstone bearing the last name of Schofield.
.
.
More days passed and there was no change in her consciousness. Her hair had continued to grow down to her waist, still coiled into the braid with roses entwined in her brunette tresses of silk. Her body was impossibly thin, emphasized by her translucent pale skin and the numerous blankets covering her for heat.
As the day of New Years Eve drew closer, neither Joseph nor William ever left Emmy's side unless it was absolutely necessary. One of the men or both were in the tent throughout day and night, keeping vigil over her.
And Molly found herself struggling with how to tell the girls about their Aunt Emmy possibly dying. But she wouldn't tell them anything unless her death was officially confirmed, which she vehemently prayed against.
As Joe sat with Emmy in the tent in the week leading up to New Years, he couldn't bring himself to finish Jane Eyre.
Instead, he told her nostalgic anecdotes about Tom and himself, all whilst holding her hands or stroking her luscious chestnut hair... he imagined her smiling and good-naturedly rolling her beautiful eyes at the antics both boys had gotten into.
But imagination would only take his sanity so far. No matter how ridiculous or juvenile each story was, her face stayed unemotional with a stoic frown in the lining of her graying chapped lips, her ashen cheekbones nearly skeletal in their hollowness. The very essence of her life being sucked away and he was helpless to take the suffering for her.
It was like watching his mother die all over again...
And when New Year's Eve arrived, Joseph found himself unable to walk into the tent. He mumbled something to Molly and Will about going to the chapel.
He needed to confess everything in the sanctuary of the church... confess all of his sins: past, present and future. Even as he marched off the Blake property, he could feel William Schofield burning accusatory and suspicious holes into his back.
Joseph failed to care, feeling his pistol concealed in his vest, feeling that his will to do the deed would decrease of he didn't have the weapon on his person.
As Will watched the lieutenant walk away through the falling snow, the younger man wanted to shout out to him about not being there for the woman they both loved for the pivotal moment at midnight... but that wasn't who he was.
And Joe wanted to go back for one more look at her face, one more touch of her cheek, hold her in his arms again...whisper his love for his dearest one in her ear.
But he couldn't see her in such a state any longer, on the brink of death.
Not even Tom's angry disappointed voice in his head could convince him.
As the chapel came into view through the snowflakes dropping around him, the gun at his side burned a hole in his pocket, feeling heavy as a full length rifle.
The grey clouded sky began to darken with the evening approaching. As Molly was bathing Emmy and feeding her soup for her possible last supper, Will occupied himself with reading to Cici and Elle in the Blake household parlor, Myrtle and Bucky curled up by the hearth.
He had to restrain himself from glancing at the clock ticking away toward midnight. Cecelia requested the story of Snow White while Giselle wanted to read Sleeping Beauty...
His own watch his beloved had gifted to him after having it repaired, had yet to continue ticking, their hands remaining as still as Emmy's motionless body.
As Will held both girls to his sides and read both stories, he couldn't help but be reminded of seeing Emmy on the bed in Erik's house within one of his dreams, fighting through the barb wire and thorns to save his love, no matter the danger.
And then, he got to the endings of both stories where the prince awoke the princess with a simple kiss to the lips... a kiss of the most genuine salvation and resuscitation and love.
And it clicked for Will... one more chance he had to save her.
And Emmy's lips had been the one place he hadn't been strong enough to touch with his own while she was under this unresponsive curse.
He looked down to the girls who had drifted off into a dozing state. Both dogs on the floor seemed to sense Will's sudden surge of adrenaline as Molly quietly came into the parlor, wiping her hands with her apron. She immediately met her brother's eyes, seeing him gently lay Cici and Elle on the chaise against the pillows, placing the storybook next to them as the clock atop the of the fireplace continued to tick the time down...
Tick...tock...tick...
Time would not be his enemy tonight... not again.
His own cracked watch began to function again, ticking in sync with his erratic heartbeat.
He stood quickly on his legs, fighting through a wave of vertigo threatening to take him down to the floor.
"Will?" Molly asked in a concerned voice, reaching out to him. He turned away, staggering quickly to the back door leading him outside.
"Stay with the girls." He spoke in a gravelly, hushed voice.
The corporal raced through the orchard and toward the tent, his ears ringing with the energy and motivation to try this one last effort to save Emmanuelle Julia Hunterson.
He opened the tent flap and entered the small shelter, looking upon his love as his heart began to slow at the heavenly yet haunting visual before him. His hands began to shake with fear and uncertainty as he sat upon the bedside, surely bruising some of the flowers by the bed's lower wood base.
His sleeping angel...
Will slid his arms delicately underneath her back and then her shoulders, her braided splendid curls spilling down from her head as his hands cradled her upper body, supporting her neck and head as his forehead pressed to hers, their noses brushing.
And his cracking voice sang to her... a simple worded ballad of romance he had heard her sing to the girls during one of her story sessions with them.
"One song,
I have but one song,
One song,
Only for you"
His words caressed her barely open mouth as he crooned to her in his husky voice, wrought with buried emotion from the last several weeks of seeing his enchanting girl so immobile and without autonomy.
"One heart,
Tenderly beating
Ever entreating,
Constant and true"
His rough tipped thumb traced along her bottom lip, feeling the faint breeze of her exhaling breath from her lungs... His eyes were red with tears he tried to keep unshed, not wanting to stain her face.
And then they flooded down as he saw Tom Blake's ribbon attached to the neckline of her gown.
"One love
That has possessed me
One love
Thrilling me through"
Will brought her face closer as he leaned to whisper the final few verses to flow in her ear, reaching out with all his might to pull her back from the grasp of Death.
"One song,
My heart keeps singing,
Of one love..."
And with the last phrase of the song, his blurred eyes flitted to her blooming petal mouth as he inched closer and closer...
"Only for you..."*
And Will kissed his Emmy upon her lips... a kiss of chaste gentleness and unchangeable devotion. A kiss incomparable to others they had exchanged before in their touch of understated sensuality.
A kiss of the truest, poignant love...
BONG! BONG! BONG!
The village bells rang out their shrill chiming alert of midnight...
Will pulled away carefully from Emmy as their lips disconnected from the kiss. He held his breath as he kept her close in his arms, surveying her face for any sign of movement.
Each second that passed with the bells' continued ringing was agony for Will as he whispered desperately to her and to whatever higher powered deity was listening.
BONG! BONG! BONG...
"Please, please... come back, my darling. I pledge myself to protect you from harm and care for you as long as you shall have me, for I am yours. And yours alone..." Will repressed a sob as a tear trickled down his cheek.
He hovered over Emmy while still rocking her securely as a lingering silence followed the last echo of the bells.
And Will's tear fell between her open lips, directly into her mouth.
He bowed down to touch his forehead to hers again, breathing deeply to keep from wailing in pain... the prelude to the torture of her literally expiring in his arms until she was but a cold, bloodless corpse.
Emmy's lips closed as her esophagus moved within her throat, allowing her to swallow.
Will slightly drew back as he felt her moving in his hands, his disbelieving eyes watching closely her every flinch and shift of her features.
He kept his arms around Emmy as he held her upper body off the bed. He wanted to call out for Molly, but he didn't want to shatter the moment of his beloved possibly awakening. A cautious smile illuminated his worn face as he gulped back a bout of dread and anxiety.
The corporal witnessed her brow furrow as her facial muscles began to move with her coming back into awareness. A tired and disoriented moan emitted from her throat as she opened her lips that had regained their plump rosebud sweetness and she inhaled a breath of oxygen with the full capacity her lungs could contain.
Will himself felt his smile grow wider at the corners as he listened to Emmy exhale her first genuine breath of brisk English winter air.
How badly he wanted to kiss every inch of her face as he saw the glowing blush of health blossom on her rounding vibrantly pink cheeks once again...
He looked down and saw her hands twitching, with the chain of his medallion still twisted around her palm. Then, her fingers flexed and bended in sync with each other as she clenched her fists and unclenched, testing out the duration of her hands...
Underneath the thick covers and sheets, her legs moved slowly but surely, like she was feeling them again in her regained ability to move on her own.
Emmy stirred her head from side to side as Will cradled the back of her cranium and he gently placed her against the pillows so she would feel comfortable as possible. It would be awhile until she fully had her strength back...
Her eyes still remained closed with her fluttering lashes; butterfly wings couldn't hold a candle to them...
She was so magically beautiful, he wanted to scoop her up off the bed and hold her, carry her into the warm welcoming house and let Molly and the girls see her and hug her as a sister and aunt...
But he needed to see those green orbs of hers so full of life and brilliance. Her eyelids twitched back and forth.
And Will reverently sighed out one word, a lifeline for her.
"Emmanuelle..." He stroked her cherubic cheek, his fingertips electrified with the hot-blooded fire flowing inside her veins.
She inhaled another deep gulp of the cold atmosphere around her...
And with the following exhale...
The "sleeping angel" opened her jade eyes and looked at her surroundings, immediately meeting the tearful azure irises of the breathlessly astonished man beside her.