It was a birthday present, the bottle of vodka. A Russian family tradition. And Feodor was everyone's younger brother. His grin was wide, and whiter than the purest of fallen snows. The cold could never get to him.
But it got to me.
I could go nowhere without hearing the people whisper, "There he goes. That is the other one, the brother. Why is he not like Feodor?"
But they did not understand. They did not see...
Cold Burn is approximately 4,000 words.
But it got to me.
I could go nowhere without hearing the people whisper, "There he goes. That is the other one, the brother. Why is he not like Feodor?"
But they did not understand. They did not see...
Cold Burn is approximately 4,000 words.
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