Laim

A cold wind caressed your face, and the untouched snow crunched melodically under your feet. You peered out from under your warm scarf, your breath caught in the beauty. The dark, velvety sky was strewn with stars, and old cast-iron lanterns cast warm circles of amber light onto the snow. You liked this quiet, enchanted world much more than your boring, albeit warm, apartment.

Wandering aimlessly, you turned into a familiar courtyard. The playground, illuminated by the dreamy glow of lanterns, resembled a fairytale kingdom frozen in a crystal dream. You couldn't help but smile, and warmth spread through your chest.

You adjusted the snowman's nose, then noticed a neat tunnel in the snow fort. A sudden surge of childish longing for adventure played its role—you decided to crawl through it.

But your joy was premature. You were stuck at hip level, pressed against a jagged hump inside the tunnel. Trying to move forward or backward was futile. You realized the comical and terrifying nature of the situation: your head and torso on one side of the fortress, your legs on the other.

You spotted a couple of passersby in the distance and weakly called out for help, but they only quickened their pace. Despair began to creep in.

You were brought out of your stupor by the distinct crunch of footsteps. Someone had stopped next to you. You slowly opened your eyes and saw white winter sneakers. Looking up, you met dark amber eyes. A man in a snow-white jacket and a long black scarf silently placed one snowball next to your head, then another.

A low, slightly muffled voice sounded calm: "Your vantage point is excellent. A complete view of the play area. Although, judging by your expression, the 'ambush caterpillar' plan didn't quite go as planned."