Yawning, I extend my arms while my legs remain tucked under my heated covering. My fiance’s spot was empty. She must have left early for work. In my wake, the papers on my desk remind me of the sociopath murderer on the loose. The one my associate and I have been trying to catch for months. I dub them the frostbite fugitive because they are also an arsonist and a crook. Although my alarm clock has not yet rung, I would have no chance of falling back asleep. Despite my weary eyes and raspy voice, my mind is completely awake. Ignoring my unwillingness, I roll out of bed and place my feet on the sluggish gray rug beneath me. I admire the feminine face I see in the mirror. My red hair pleasantly rested on my shoulders, and my emerald eyes twinkled in the light. Once I have got ready for the day, I snatch up my winter coat, along with my gun then I slip outdoors. I clasp the doorknob, prepare myself for the cold, and swiftly step outside. The land wears a dense coating of snow, and the bushes and trees wear frost like a dress, with their branches plunging from the weight of the snow. The crisp air strikes my face like a million stinging arrows, and my breath creates a cloud of vapor with each exhale. My lips are extremely chapped. I lick them. It only causes a burning-like pain due to the cold. It was a dull blue sky overhead. The sun, when visible, slumps down on the horizon, casting long shadows over the snow-covered valley. In the distance, snowy mountain caps are visible through the fog. Though exquisite, the terrain feels lethargic. Small tracks from creatures soon to be filled in by the next storm stand as the only sign of life. The only sounds are the occasional ice crunching and cracking with each footstep. It is remarkably isolated here, which makes me feel secure but correspondingly makes me feel alone. Great pines surround my wood cabin, carved into this frozen land. It is sturdy in structure, built of logs carefully held together to preserve the heat, and carries a sloping roof to shed the snow. Smoke erupts from the chimney, signaling a fire within, a fire that keeps me warm during my long days and nights. A porch runs along the house, practical to stomp off my boots before entering. The cabin isn't too far from our field office, maybe ten miles. On the other hand, it is at least twenty miles from the nearest gas station and thirty from the nearest town. I shiver, tugging my fur coat tight to my chest. My teeth chatter uncontrollably, but I stay vigorous and stand my ground in the cold. I compose myself to smoke my morning cigarette. Lighting a cigarette is challenging in this cold, primarily because of the frigid breeze. I yank the cigarette package out of my pocket, open it, and seize one. I go to light it, only to be disappointed as the gusts of wind threaten to snuff out the flame. I try again to spark it, only for my numb fingers to clumsily drop it into the snow. “Shit,” I mumble. I draw another and repeat the operation of trying to light it, this time being cautious not to drop it. Finally, I have it lit. That first drag off of it is priceless, the absolute finest sensation in the morning. The smoke fills my lungs with warmth and relief, a fleeting moment to overlook the freezing temperature. I exhale, and the smoke spirals into the air before dissipating into the breeze, producing a much greater cloud than it would in the summer or spring's heat. The taste overwhelms me in the cold, the flavor dances on my tongue, and the aroma mingles with the scent of the pines and snow. As I take another puff, I feel the nicotine buzz bringing dizziness to my head. It is a small comfort amid the cold. Completing my cigarette, I am reminded again of the frostiness. My fingers and toes start to feel numb once again. I fling the butt into the snow, with no demand to stomp it out because it quickly extinguishes. I hurry back inside, appreciative of the warmth in my cabin. I am already looking forward to the next and the brief relaxation it will bring from the freeze. Being an FBI agent and all, it is beneficial to rid my stress with a cigarette every so often. I sit on my couch and watch some mindless television for a bit. I have some time to spare before I need to get into my truck, leave for the field office, and begin work. I usually get there early. Today I agreed I ought to spend some time before work to unwind. I stand tiredly and trot to the stove to turn it on. I fill up my pot with water and position it on the burner to heat. Once I notice it boiling, I ramble back over to the counter and pour some into a mug, then drop in a herbal tea pack and honey. I mix the honey in and sit back on the sofa. My first sip is like bliss, so relaxing. Although It was still hot and burned my tongue. Completing my tea, I grab my keys and head out to start my truck, but I can't dodge the eerie sense that somebody is watching me. I examine the house before I exit, checking that my security system is on along with my cameras. It's finally time to leap in my Chevy and head to the office.