It was cold. The kind of disgusting cold that chills you through the layers upon layers of of winter woolies that were piled on. It was darker now, and he regretted missing the last bus. Yet there was something charming about the night, even in his sodden boots and the breath-damp scarf. His breath had created a damp patch in his scarf, and his gloves had a hole in the left thumb. Yes, he was cold, but not as cold as her.
He'd gone to knock the snow off the tree branch, in case it fell in the night and smashed his car windscreen. And he'd trodden on something. A person. He'd trodden on a [i]hand.[/i]
Stopping himself from screaming, he pushed the snow away, his heart racing. A naked girl, icy cold. She couldn't be alive, not that cold and that deep in snow. But her heart was beating. "Oh my god, oh my [I] Lord [/I]." He whispered, stripping off his coat and doing his best to stuff it around her. His phone was flat, so he'd need to get her inside in order to phone an ambulance for her. "You're breathing, don't die now." He hissed, trying to pick her up as best he could.