Permafrost Hollows Go Home, You're Drunk

Somehow Posie's adventure took him in to the northlands, to where the earth was lost to permafrost and the sun struggled to get its warmth through the ice-filled mist of morning. Somehow Posie had become lost in a big, dark forest. The pines were familiar only because they reminded him of home; but they grew haphazardly along the ridge, or in too-close clusters, as if they too were huddling for warmth. He did not like this forest (but he did not like most things in the world, so far). The boy's lower lip trembled as he rounded a corner (finding a narrow corridor between some of the trees), but he did not give in to the temptation to cry and wail like a babe. He was cold, and alone, and Posie had never experienced both of those things at the same time, especially in this magnitude. It was spring time but he could see his breath billowing out before him (in pathetic little huffs, no less)! Spring was supposed to be bright, and warm, and filled with new blossoms and new babies! But not here, apparently. And that lack of life really tugged at the poor boy's heart strings. He was so bereft by the depressing atmosphere of the forest, so lost in his own internalized weeping, that he didn't notice the stranger lurking nearby - even as he passed her by, making zero effort to hide his own advance.