Mostly the cold comes armed with claws of iron and it's silent and cunning. It stealthily buries itself inside chinks of wooden walls and floors and pounces on you unawares.
Smooth is its operation. Stalking us through the stunted hilly terrain into our dens and circling us down like some do to an animal hunted down on the sly.
It clamps its freezing pincers on where it matters- the heart and suddenly the center become porous. Icy air passes through the portals to inside and out. The heart then becomes a honeycomb filled with something frigid and gaseous.
Gotcha!............It murmur's.
And then comes that dumb laugh with its mean and clinking teeth.
But you are not dumb, you were expecting the onslaught and have covered yourselves in woolen sweaters and mufflers. You may not fancy room heaters. But you have beefed up your defenses. Still the cold is cunning. It keeps in the shadows and strangely has become demure. In your sleep, when the cap or muffler slips from your ears, it starts licking your ears lasciviously. It has suddenly turned amorous.......!
More about our fencing match later.
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