The half-moon hung flat on a wintry night in the Cold Mountain. Giving no hint of the bloodshed to come.

But in this icy barren territory, I felt it wash over my skin, the brisk wintry blast, simply to be greeted by the rhythm of my heart, repeatedly and again.

However everyone froze as he drew his sword, its sharpness would injure the air apart. Pressing down with his power and superior strength, he dragged the blade backward towards her face. When she least expects it, he knocks the blade from her grasp until it lands just unreachable. And steer his elbow into her face almost knocking her unconscious. He gets to his feet standing over her, the tilt of the sword is pointed towards her heart in both hands-on grips, he plunges the sword into her rib cage.

She gasped for air. The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard signaled her end. Something about his eyes captured my attention, his eyes informed me a story no voice had ever dared to tell.

His blade found a sanctuary in my rib cage, urging its way into my precious heart. I didn't utter nor attempt to scream, for my sorrow is beyond me. The agony was unbearable, raising, and shattered me.

In silence Catherine bolted upward, her thoughts were uncertain, disturbed, realizing that she was inside the bus. She had that winter dream again? How cliché. She thought while hurriedly steps out of the bus.

Winter in London was by far the grandest on earth, some say the British love of flowers was on passionate display throughout London in its alluring flower shops and their animated displays, which spill out onto the pavements and street corners. Rainbow shades of beautiful cut flowers in buckets, bouquets tied in bright ribbons and miniature house plants entice passersby to stop for a closer look and, of course, a photograph. But here she was strolling or rather running like a crazy individual yet, the air was colder than ever.

At the same time last year, Catherine went to work for the first time, excited and naive. Now every morning was spent accomplishing the necessary preparation on autopilot while her brain prepares for every plausible scenario it can, finding solutions to problems that don't yet exist - just in case.

Catherine couldn't think of a time any of it has paid off, it's more a method of her worries than anything else. At least she knew that much. By the time she's on the bus she "knew" how she was going to deal with her boss; and by the time she's off the bus, It was drizzling on her face and there was absolutely no point in trying to pretend an umbrella will do her any good.

She understands that this was the perfect day for her to enjoy one of London's many free museums, galleries, and have some serious soul inspiration for someone's winter days, or was it not? Despite the short days and miserable weather, Londoners have plenty of reasons to go outdoors this time of year. One of the coolest wintertime activities was to don some skates and hit one of the outdoor ice rinks around town.

But No! To her, that was impossible for someone like her who needs to work to pay the bills, she doesn't have the luxury to enjoy London winter as per tourist perspective, and as the wind blows in her face, thinking about her boss angry face, she guesses that this time he will fire her! Anytime soon, or maybe not today but sooner.

She is Catherine Stone, her close friends call her Cath, she had silky long blond hair and eyes so green and brown they sparkled like jewels. That was her mom's opinion though. Standing five feet and five inches, yes, she was just the typical-looking girl in London, sentimental and vulnerable. When hurt, she withdrawn into a cloud of silence, dull and empty but eventually transpiring from her shyness with tricks and giggle that cover up her true feelings.

She can become moody and gloomy when depressed, if ever there was a single moment of total change, that gives meaning to her life it was the moment of her birth. At that moment, she stepped through a door in time into a new reality - the reality of human life. Yes! that was her mom's idea of giving her confidence specially when she needed it most.

She works as an IT in Lavasoft, Founded in 2001, her company was a custom software development company, spanning its presence across various global locations like the US, Canada, the UK, Australia, and India. Their team of 200 plus IT professionals offers business growth with their knack for technology platforms and luckily she landed a job as a PA for the Application Manager, Mr. Jonas Nasir. It was not the best as per se but who she was to disagree with? It pays the bills and that was all that matters.

This early morning, the sky has an extraordinary dash of a little orange cast onto the otherwise pale grey cloud, the day promises to be like every other day, but now it was a different story. It was raining, reasonably cold, and chilling, but, oh boy! She was wrong, it seems like the morning is yet to begin.

As she walks, pressing the folders and a little brown purse to her chest, and turned the corner to walk down the hall. She was wandering rather quickly and lost deep in thought, she didn't even seem to notice the people around her. She then looked up to see a man, at least one step in front of her, obscuring her path, eyes broadened as her feet stumbled over his and her staff fell on the floor in a clutter.

"Woah, sorry I-" the man rushed into an apology as his hand wrapped around her waist and held her there, safe from falling, their eyes met for a moment, and then she forced herself to look away as she flushed bright red. "I didn't see you miss."

"My papers. Dammit!" Catherine screamed in embarrassment, as she smells the expensive cologne the man used.

"What on earth are you doing here at this corner?" She asked, thinking that this man smells like fresh flowers.

"You mean, why this corner and not another corner?" He asked. Feeling amused by this sudden turn of his morning.

"Yes! She sarcastically replied.

"I mean you just ran into me, not paying attention and now you are mad at me being in the corner?" He asked.

"I think one could do it anywhere. Could be at a crosswalk, in the middle of the street, but you could have been paying attention" Catherine answered back feeling embarrassed by the sudden outburst.

"But I chose this corner." He sighed.

"I was running, for I'm so late and as I ran around this corner--"

"Stormed."

"Excuse me?"

"As you stormed around the corner. You hit me," he said, then a clear frown followed.

"I'm aware of what happened, and I'm sorry, but my papers are wet and this was your fault. Do you think maybe you're to blame? A single apology will do, you know!" She added in contempt.

"Me? Because of what? Because of the rain, blinding me? That makes it my responsibility, does it?"

"Sir, what I mean is you were swirling in circles right here at this corner. You were close to this building, there's no way I could have seen you when coming around. If you were further from the building, closer to the road, maybe--" Catherine said while picking up the remaining clutters.

"Maybe you'd have just pushed me into the road?" he mumbled. This woman has a nerve.

"Yes! No. Maybe so." She replied and sighed, remembers that she was almost late, she doesn't have a choice than to run away from this guy.

"Got to have to go again." She grumbled while passing away from the guy.

"Don't you storm off like that, you felonious little! Dammit. Get back here! I am not done with you yet" she heard his shout in a distance.

A slight smile curved into her lips as she remembers his smell. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her eyes crinkled. The familiarity of it was beyond her, but going exhausted she forgot it as easy as breathing and as she had never been the athletic type of girl, and the last time she'd run this far was when she'd petted a dog and thought it was her who woke it up. It started barking at her. She panicked and ran for it. The dog chased her. She tried to distract it with things from the ground, but it didn't work. It seemed like she had been going for hours, but it had only been two minutes. She climbed up a bench and cried out for help, but it was disastrous. And that my friend was the last occasion she'd petted a dog.

However, she can't stand this anymore, she hates running. She seemed breathless and stopped, catching her breath as she glanced at the cobblestones that were wet with the night's rain and made slippery by the wintry temperature. Casting the water film into ice, and luckily, she was wearing boots. So as she walked on the streets near their building to the poorly design bus shelter she tried to think and visualizing herself interacting with the director at important meetings. The problem was she'd always slip into "auto-pilot".

Even though she was walking, it feels more like the sidewalk is a conveyor belt; like she was a cow in the slaughterhouse heading toward the captive bolt. Her boss likes to discourage her while appearing to be professional. She knew there were always things to be nice and means to be nasty. He was a genius at the latter.