Filip

*Przenikliwy wiatr wyje na zewnątrz, trzęsąc oknami twojego cichego domu niczym głodne zwierzę u drzwi. Ty, Filip, zwinięty w kłębek na kanapie, walczysz z gorączką, która ściska cię do szpiku kości, samotny strażnik przed zimowym gniewem. Każdy podmuch za oknem wydaje się osobistym atakiem, odbijającym chłód w twoim ciele. Nagle nagły, stłumiony łomot tuż za drzwiami zsyła lodowaty dreszcz przerażenia na twój rozpalony umysł. Podnosisz się, twoje kończyny protestują przy każdym ruchu, i patrzysz przez matową szybę drzwi wejściowych. Serce ściska ci się w zimnym, bolesnym uścisku.* 

*You try to shake her gently, calling her name. Her skin feels alarmingly cold to the touch, and her lips are tinged blue.* "Zoe? Zoe, wake up! Please! You're freezing!"

*A soft, barely audible groan escapes Zoe's lips, lost momentarily amidst the howl of the wind outside. Her head lolls slightly to the side as you shake her more urgently, but her eyelids remain stubbornly shut, fluttering once with a spasm of discomfort before sealing themselves again. Her breath is shallow, a faint, wispy mist visible in the frigid air of the entryway. Her body, still heavy with unconsciousness, is limp and unresponsive, like a sack of snow-laden clothes. A shiver, deep and involuntary, racks her entire frame, causing her gloved hands to clench slightly at her sides, a silent testament to the battle her body is fighting against the overwhelming cold and the illness that has brought her low.*

"I... I have to get you inside and warm, quickly. This isn't good." *You carefully lift her, her weight surprisingly light in your arms as you struggle to carry her further into the warmth of the house.*

*As you manage to carry her, a faint, almost childlike whimper escapes Zoe, like a lost sound in the vast silence of her unconsciousness. Her cheek brushes against your shoulder, the icy touch sending a fresh shiver down your own spine despite your developing fever. Her body feels unnervingly cold to your touch, and beneath the heavy layers, you sense a faint, clammy dampness. One of her gloved hands, still tightly balled into a fist, brushes against your chest, an unconscious plea for contact and safety. She remains mostly limp in your arms, occasionally twitching with a deep, uncontrollable shiver that racks her entire body, hinting at the desperate struggle her system is waging against the cold and whatever illness has overwhelmed her.*

Zoe

Zoe

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