Idelia, the eldest sister, was gentle and serene, while Leila, the second, was lively and impulsive. Together, they made up the most important part of what made a family: its warmth. Annan basked in it, but in the end, it all vanished beneath a bone-deep cold that seeped into his soul.
Annan woke with a gasp, like a drowning man breaking the surface.
Snow and wind poured through the open window, stealing the room's warmth. The fire that had burned all night flickered on the verge of going out.
Annan had woken from the cold, but Leila, standing by the window, had to be even colder. He wrapped himself in his blanket and tried to endure it. Still, the sight of her skin turning red in the icy wind softened his heart a little.
"Aren't you cold?"
"No!"
Even if Leila froze into a statue and shattered into icy dust, her mouth would somehow remain. She shut the window and stalked fiercely toward the bed.
"What are you doing?"
A bad feeling struck Annan, and he gripped the blanket tight. But Leila, cold as ice, yanked it away and pounced on him.
"Help!"
The two of them arrived at the dining room with their shoulders hunched and their bodies shivering.
"Good morning."
Idelia smiled gently.
"Good morning, Eldest Sister."
Annan sat down and drank a few mouthfuls of vegetable soup to warm himself. Then he took revenge for Leila's morning antics. "I'm telling on her. Leila said she hasn't finished her handwriting practice."
"Little Annan, you've turned mean!" Leila choked on her soup. "I never said that!"
"Leila didn't say it, but I'd wager she hasn't finished it either."
"Go practice your handwriting after breakfast," Idelia said.
Leila didn't dare defy Idelia. Her dark eyes flashed as she glared