The wind howled mercilessly through the narrow, snow-laden streets, sharp and biting.
The sky was a dull gray, heavy with clouds that promised more snow.
On the rough, frozen path, a small figure struggled forward—a little girl, no older than seven or eight.
Her tiny hands, raw and red from the cold, gripped the ends of two torn pieces of cloth.
The fabric dragged over the icy ground, leaving faint trails in the snow.
On one piece of cloth lay a pale, lifeless child, no older than five, her skin unnaturally white and lips tinged blue.
On the other, a thin woman with hollow cheeks and shallow, uneven breaths.
The girl sobbed quietly as she dragged them forward, her breath visible in the frigid air.
"Please… someone… help us…!" she cried, her voice fragile and breaking. "Please save my mother and sister! The Goddess Agastasa will bless you!"