Naturalist Period

It was cold, very cold. It was the kind of cold that most people are unable to even image, but it didn’t bother me. The cold never has bothered me even when I knew the temperature was well below zero.
The path I was on was barely visible, but I could follow it. My dog, Rufus, followed with me. He was a faithful companion, but I could tell he felt the cold more than I. I brushed the deep snow off the top of a stump and sat for a moment. Rufus looked at me as if awaiting orders. He was easily the most faithful dog I’d seen.
I took a moment to clear my nose and spit. The spit froze before it hit the ground. My lips began to dry out so I pulled my scarf to cover my nose. I stood to continue our trek.
We had gone for miles.Hardly anyone ever came out this far, at least not on foot. Sometimes you’d see sled dogs or a snowmobile, but the climate was too harsh for hikers. Ahead was a hidden fork in the path. With the ice and snow, the path was hidden from any who didn’t already know it.
I diverged to the right and headed up the ridge that lay before me. Through the white glass like forest I saw the smoke rising from the trees. I was close. Before me stood a white and brown castle of trees and snow.
The light shimmered and danced from surface to surface only interrupted by the dark brown bark. With Rufus behind me, we set off again to find our home for the night.

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