The silence of a slow winter snowfall adds to its patient nature. The beauty of snow's descent is heightened when un-availed by the force of wind, when allowed to glide without interference or inference. Upon such a sight she left her home and climbed into her poor excuse of a truck. It held greater visual and structural relation to a rust-bucket than to the truck it was meant to idolize, but it moved through the magic of combustion, and though it painfully creaked, it held together by some basic act of molecular physics.
As she picked up speed and struggled to climb the snow covered hill beyond her home, the passenger of said rust-bucket began to feel tears sting her heavily mascaraed eyes, unleashing a stream of war paint which encompassed her pale cheeks. Her eyes shrunk as her driving become more haphazard and while her vision blurred she realized that her truck, though diligent and stubborn, could move no faster. At that moment without thought she slammed upon the brakes and felt the subtle power of momentum overcome the subtler power of friction and gravity. Rust-bucket slide upon the slick snow covering hidden ice with a wonderful fluidity and for a moment Rust-bucket appeared to be at home upon the ice. With a blink her deeply black eyes peered through the poorly swept windshield looking upon a blackness of white snow impenetrable to all. As she slide the snow carefully parted to the heaving and hole riddled Rust-bucket who glided towards an embankment growing in size before her slowly widening eyes.
The wonders of winter remains in its silence. Movement always appears to coincide with sound, but as Rust-bucket slide painfully fast towards the embankment the silence remained. The engine, though running, did not break the spell, and she couldn't utter a word for what would be the point when utterance would invariably fail to change the coming circumstances. No, the slide and the collusion held the deep sustenance of silence for the pillowy sound enveloping frozen liquid encompassed Rust-bucket in its cold embrace while very quickly succeeding where gravity and friction failed. She heard nothing.
The amount of time that passed between moments cannot be gaged. She sat in Rust-bucket considering her surroundings. Rust-bucket appeared to have finally lived up to her appearance for she was undeniably immovable, and as such would be fated to remain in her current position. Tears still filled her eyes, though wether they where from the previous moment or the future current moment cannot be said, only that they appeared during a moment either remembered or unremembered.
Slowly and carefully she unveiled herself of Rust-bucket, exiting through the back window and stepping into the cab of her once faithful and trusted vehicle. Taking a deep breath she soaked in her surroundings through her blackened eyes. She felt the slightest hint of a cold breeze from the west and felt in her bones that a fierce wind existed beyond the horizon. She slowly climbed from Rust-bucket, feeling the ache in her muscles from the impact of stymied momentum and unwrapped a pair of snow shoes that lay in the cab. With gingerly patience she placed each foot in each set of straps and methodically tightened. Looking upwards she slowly struggled uphill, towards the same direction in which she was driving before. With a last moment of pause she looked back, blinked, and once again trekked forward with abandonment.
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