The half-moon hung flat on a wintry night in the Cold Mountains. Giving no hint of the bloodshed to come,

But in this icy, barren territory, I felt it wash over my skin, the brisk wintry blast, simply to be greeted by the rhythm of my heart, repeatedly and again.

However, everyone froze as he drew his sword. Its sharpness would injure the air apart from him. Pressing down with his power and superior strength, he dragged the blade backward towards her face. When she least expects it, he knocks the blade from her grasp until it lands just unreachable. He steered his elbow into her face, almost knocking her unconscious. He gets to his feet, standing over her. The tilt of the sword is pointed towards her heart in both hands-on grips. He plunges the sword into her rib cage.
She gasped for air. The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard signaled her end. Something about his eyes captured my attention. His eyes informed me of a story no voice had ever dared to tell.
His blade found a sanctuary in my rib cage, urging its way into my precious heart. I didn't utter nor attempt to scream, for my sorrow is beyond me. The agony was unbearable, raising, and shattered me.
In silence, Catherine bolted upward. Her thoughts were uncertain and disturbed, realizing that she was inside the bus. Had she had that winter dream again? How cliché. She thought while hurriedly stepping off of the bus.
Some say that the British love of flowers was on full display in London's alluring flower shops and animated displays that spilled out onto the pavements and street corners.Rainbow shades of beautiful cut flowers in buckets, bouquets tied in bright ribbons and miniature house plants entice passersby to stop for a closer look and, of course, a photograph. But here she was strolling, or rather running like a crazy person, in the coldest air she'd ever experienced.
At the same time last year, Catherine went to work for the first time, excited and naive. Every morning was spent accomplishing the necessary preparation on autopilot while her brain prepares for every plausible scenario it can think of, finding solutions to problems that don't yet exist-just in case.
Catherine couldn't think of a time when any of it had paid off. It's more a method of her worries than anything else. At least she knew that much. By the time she was on the bus, she "knew" how she was going to deal with her boss; and by the time she got off the bus, it was drizzling on her face and there was absolutely no point in trying to pretend an umbrella would do her any good.
She understands that this was the perfect day for her to enjoy one of London's many free museums and galleries and have some serious soul inspiration for someone's winter days, or was it not? Despite the short days and miserable weather, Londoners have plenty of reasons to go outdoors at this time of year. One of the coolest wintertime activities was to don some skates and hit one of the outdoor ice rinks around town.
But No! To her, that was impossible for someone like her who needs to work to pay the bills. She doesn't have the luxury of enjoying London winter as a tourist, and as the wind blows in her face, thinking about her boss's angry face, she guesses that this time he will fire her! Anytime soon, or maybe not today, but sooner.
She is Catherine Stone. Her close friends call her Cath. She had silky long blond hair and eyes so green and brown they sparkled like jewels. That was her mom's opinion, though. Yes, at five feet and five inches tall, she was a typical-looking girl in London, sentimental and vulnerable.When she was hurt, she retreated into a cloud of silence, dull and empty, eventually emerging from her shyness with tricks and giggles that disguised her true feelings.
She can become moody and gloomy when depressed. If ever there was a single moment of total change that gave meaning to her life, it was the moment of her birth. At that moment, she stepped through a door in time into a new reality—the reality of human life. Yes, that was her mom's idea of giving her confidence, especially when she needed it most.
She works as an IT consultant for Lavasoft, a custom software development company founded in 2001 with offices in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, and India.Their team of 200+ IT professionals offers business growth with their knack for technology platforms, and luckily, she landed a job as a PA for the Application Manager, Mr. Jonas Nasir. It was not the best, per se, but who was she to disagree with? It pays the bills, and that's all that matters.
This early morning, the sky has an extraordinary dash of a little orange cast onto the otherwise pale grey cloud. The day promised to be like every other day, but now it was a different story. It was raining, reasonably cold, and chilling, but, oh boy! She was wrong; it seems like the morning has yet to begin.
As she walked, pressing the folders and a little brown purse to her chest, she turned the corner to walk down the hall. She was wandering rather quickly and lost deep in thought. She didn't even seem to notice the people around her. She then looked up to see a man, at least one step in front of her, obscuring her path. Her eyes broadened as her feet stumbled over his and her staff fell on the floor in a mess.
"Woah, sorry I-" the man rushed into an apology as his hand wrapped around her waist and held her there, safe from falling; their eyes met for a moment before she forced herself to look away, flushed bright red."I didn't see you miss."
"My papers," Dammit! " Catherine screamed in embarrassment, as she smelled the expensive cologne the man used.
"What on earth are you doing here at this corner?" She asked, thinking that this man smelled like fresh flowers.
"You mean, why this corner and not another corner?" He asked. This unexpected turn in his morning made him laugh.
"Yes! She sarcastically replied.
"I mean, you just ran into me, not paying attention, and now you are mad at me for being in the corner." He asked.
I think one could do it anywhere. Catherine responded, embarrassed by the sudden outburst.
But I chose this corner. He sighed.
"I was running, because I was so late, and as I ran around this corner—"
"Stormed."
"Excuse me?"
"As you stormed around the corner, You hit me, "he said, then a clear frown followed.
I'm aware of what happened, and I'm sorry, but my papers are wet and this was your fault. Do you think maybe you're to blame? A single apology will do, you know! " She added with contempt.
"Me? Because of what? Because of the rain, blinding me? Does that make it my responsibility, does it? "
"What I mean, Sir, is that you were swirling in circles right here at this corner."You were close to this building. There's no way I could have seen you when coming around. If you were further from the building, closer to the road, maybe---" Catherine said while picking up the remaining clutter.
"Maybe you'd have just pushed me into the road?" He mumbled. This woman has a nerve.
"Yes! Not at all.Maybe so. " She replied and sighed, remembering that she was almost late. She didn't have a choice but to run away from this guy.
"Got to have to go again." She grumbled while passing away from the guy.
Don't you storm off like that, you felonious little thing! Dammit. Get back here! I am not done with you yet, "she heard his shout in the distance.
A slight smile curved into her lips as she remembered his smell. Her eyes sparkled, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. The familiarity of it was beyond her, but going exhausted, she forgot it as easily as breathing, as she had never been the athletic type of girl, and the last time she'd run this far was when she'd petted a dog and thought it was her who woke it up. It started barking at her. She panicked and ran for it. The dog chased her. She tried to distract it with things from the ground, but it didn't work. It seemed like she had been going for hours, but it had only been two minutes. She climbed up a bench and cried out for help, but it was disastrous. And that, my friend, was the last time she'd petted a dog.
However, she can't stand this anymore. She hates running. She seemed breathless and stopped, catching her breath as she glanced at the cobblestones that were wet with the night's rain and made slippery by the wintry temperature. casting the water film into ice, and luckily, she was wearing boots. So as she walked down the streets near their building to the poorly designed bus shelter, she tried to think and visualize herself interacting with the director at important meetings. The problem was, she'd always slip into "auto-pilot".
Even though she was walking, it felt more like the sidewalk was a conveyor belt; like she was a cow in the slaughterhouse heading toward the captive bolt. Her boss likes to discourage her while appearing to be professional. She knew there were always things to be nice about and ways to be nasty. He was a genius at the latter.
She rushed into her office building, avoiding the blistering London winter chill. When she stepped out of the elevator on the 18th floor, she placed her things on her desk, reached for the little organizer in one hand, adjusted her coat with her free hand, drew a deep breath, and opened the cabin door of her boss's assistant manager.
She hated Ada. She had the figure and the looks to turn women half her age jealous. Her skin was as pale as china, but she was bossy as hell, and she talked like a parrot.
Catherine peeled off her trench coat and gloves and was about to take a seat opposite her when she heard her boss barking her name.
Oh, sh*t, how the hell does he know she was here? Sighing, Catherine reached his office.
"Good morning, Mr. Nasir," she said.
Catherine's boss was a compact, clear-cut man with precise features, a lot of very soft raven hair, and thoughtful dark brown eyes. He was half Irish, half Pakistani, and with that combination, He had a look of wariness, which could change when he felt relaxed or pleased, which was rare in these impossible days.
Catherine, I need you to check with Derek if he is ready for the board. I need you to make sure that he knows what the board requires him to understand, "he said without a pause, then added."
"The scope and components of a comprehensive security program need to be lightened up enough so the board can allocate sufficient resources." Am I clear? "
"Yes, Sir." She scratched the back of her head.
And tell him he needs to establish a repeatable, measurable program that helps develop our situation; I need that report on my desk before the end of the day," Mr. Nasir added.
He should remember that a plan-build-run model was a useful means for executives to view the functions of an IT security program, so help me God if he messes this up! We will finish up jobless. Am I understanding? "
"Yes, Sir." Catherine sighed as she walked, whining as the frosty morning air still made her shiver.
By the way, I wanted you here earlier! "By the way," he asserted, not returning my greetings.
Never mind that she had come here a little earlier than normal just to prepare the boardroom. He took his coffee and gulped down half the contents before he continued!
"You will have to reprint page ten before we start in twenty minutes and make certain to let everyone know that we have the new CEO joining us later." He checked his platinum watch and turned his back to her, returning to his laptop.
"Yes Sir," Catherine strode out and made it to the typing team for help.