Lady in white

A lighter! It had a pretty floral pattern of blooming carnations, though it was a bit worn from infrequent use. She quickly grabbed it and gave it a quick kiss of gratitude, not really knowing why. It was just a surge of endorphins.
Through her knitted gloves, it was hard to hold, but they were already soaked, so it didn't slip too much. She had received them as a Christmas gift once, along with a matching scarf, though today she wore a different one.
Both pieces were knitted by her mom. She remembered how she had expected something entirely different under the Christmas tree, feeling disappointed and somewhat angry, but at this moment, she was grateful to her mom from the bottom of her heart.
Although she could have had much more functional and waterproof gloves, these were knitted with true motherly care. That added warmth, in a way.
What are you, crazy?! You're freezing in them! What are you telling yourself right now?
A stern voice of presence yelled at her.
She ignored it. It didn’t matter at all. They were still keeping her warm.
But now she had to take one off. Otherwise, the lighter would never ignite. She needed a dry fingertip.
So she did, taking off the glove and flexing all the fingers on her free hand a few times. The cold wind on her bare skin surprised her. It was biting and ravenous, practically devouring her.
She quickly brought her hand to the lighter and flicked it. But nothing happened. Not even a spark flew out.

She tried again, and finally, a longed-for spark appeared. How beautiful it looked in this harsh weather! She flicked it again, sparks flying like a tiny volcano erupting around the lighter, but nothing happened. It didn’t light, and the desired flame didn't flare up.
Could it be wet? But why? She had tried to keep it dry. So what was wrong with it?
She sparked it again, with the same result—nothing.
She frowned. She held the lighter up to the light and looked closely.
Damn! It was empty! Completely empty!
Just like her head at the moment. God, why had she let herself be filled with so much hope, only to be dashed even harder? Christ!
When had she even emptied it? Tears pressed into her eyes again, but she resisted them and pulled her brows together in anger. So fate was playing a cruel game with her.
Shivers ran down her neck.
She had hardly used it! She had only occasionally lit a cigarette for someone, and that was really infrequent and maybe twice for herself. She didn't enjoy it and didn’t feel the need to constantly pretend, unlike most others.
She used it when the opportunity arose.
So how was it empty? By now, there could have been a flickering fire warming her.
She froze.
She had lent it to Denisa two months ago just for two hours and then she had gotten it back. What had that crazy girl been lighting? Had she set half the school on fire? Damn!
Suddenly, she was rightfully angry at her. When she got out of this, she would teach her a lesson. Stupid fool!
But right now, it didn’t matter. Her hope had faded like a flashlight sinking into the depths of a dark sea. It simply vanished.
She grounded herself again and had to think about more realistic matters. Like how to avoid freezing to death without a fire, because, unfortunately, she couldn’t start one now.
Irritated, she threw the empty lighter back into her bag and picked it up again to use it as a DIY shield against the menacing snow.

So, she had solved nothing.
But that’s not important, even that tiny spark of hope had been a kind of boost. She had to try to take things more optimistically, because if she let her spirits drop, she’d freeze even faster. Not even her damn thoughts would keep her warm.
If only she were some kind of Indian yogi? She had read somewhere that they could supposedly lower or raise their body temperature at will.
Apparently, through years of practice, they could control their bodies to such an extent that they could even stop their breathing or heartbeats.
She didn’t really believe it, but she would have raised her temperature to 39 degrees if she could. Who knows if it would help, though.
Suddenly, she turned sharply. She heard something like the crunching of snow.
No, it certainly couldn’t be the search team... Or could it?
She hoped it wasn’t another animal, a boar or a stray bear. That could be the end of her...
And she almost forgot about her friends, the wolves. As far as she knew, there were few in Slovakia, but what if a pack was roaming here, between the hills?
Her father always said, "Misery loves company."
And she could be a prime example.
But she saw something white. It was as if a bride's veil was gliding across the snow, dancing gracefully in a hall.
It probably wasn’t even possible, but she felt a shiver run through her even more.
Am I seeing things?
But after a few seconds, she saw the entire bride.
Peeking from beneath the bag, with eyes squinting in horror and mouth slightly open in curiosity.
She stood about thirty meters away. Surrounded by clouds, and from what Miška could see, she was barefoot, standing ankle-deep in freshly fallen snow.
As if she was levitating.
Her eyes were glowing and strange, like a cat’s when illuminated by the headlights of an approaching car at night.
She didn’t appear threatening, not at all. But neither did she seem inviting.
Miška blinked a few times, and then closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the bride was still there. So it wasn’t her imagination?
It seemed to Miška that the bride was smiling. Her face was as white as a corpse in a coffin, but in the surrounding grayish mist, it looked serene.
I hope I’m not dying. What does a person actually see when they start to freeze?
Probably nothing, or maybe nothing interesting at all.
But Miška kept watching her. The strange White Lady, who was just now waving at her in that fleeting moment.
Miška gasped. She was even more frightened. God, what is this?