Two figures stood about seven feet apart, the snow around them slowly turning red and shifting as it freed its latest set of victims. The two figures had surfaced some hour or so ago, clawing upwards with frostbitten fingers that were now mildly bleeding stumps.
The blood had been here before they emerged, softening the snow with its warmth and allowing them to break free far easier than the others who were still digging many feet below. The two figures regarded each other with great suspicion - neither believing that they were anything other than alive and miraculously unharmed. Neither feeling anything and neither realising this.
It's quite amazing what the human mind is willing to ignore in order to preserve itself. The two figures were perfectly capable of assessing their decaying self and yet they chose to look to the other, to look at the blood on the ground and in the snow on their shoulders and think they are in the presence of a monster.
They were, in a way, among monsters. Rejected by death and the very ground itself, they were supposed to head for other humans and find their peace among their own instead of cluttering the pristine snow with unnecessary bodies that wouldn't be able to fully decay until the summer.
Bloodshot eyes met bloodshot eyes through cracked glasses and mangled hair fused to open wounds. Each saw something inhuman and each planned to attack. Neither were paying attention to the shifting ground until others began to emerge on broken hands and broken bones.
Before long there will be a group of mistrusting monsters and the snow will continue to bleed.
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