Golden Glade It rips you to shreds.

She heaved a sigh, slowly coming to terms with the fact that supplies were much harder to come by now. The snow was pretty, particularly when a fresh blanket sparkled underfoot, and Sugar enjoyed the way it seemed to muffle noises. But it covered nearly all the foliage and even when she was able to unearth some roots and shoots, they were almost always dead and useless, like the crinkled stem currently underfoot.

Leaving it behind, Sugar ranged further afield for no particular reason. She really ought to get back—there were many refugees in need of aid back in the copse—but despite her hopelessness about finding supplies, she couldn't just stop trying. She couldn't return empty-handed. Her head dropped, her pink nose skimming along the snow's sparkling surface, her every sense peeled for any sign of green.

Instead, she spotted something yellow: a flash of eyes set into a dark face which contrasted with the rest of the world's white overcoat. Sugar paused in her step, her own black eyes squinted, as she sussed out the silhouette of a stranger among the bare trees. He was tall and lissome, his features striking in profile. Sugar licked her lips, hoping for another glimpse of his face.