Work Text:
Even as the heat forced him from the house, the cold started. He could feel it moving through his body, crowding behind his eyes as he dug the grave, freezing the tears he couldn't cry. As he gathered up their remains and carried them across the fields he had so carefully tended, he could no longer feel his hands. The smell of burnt flesh permeated everything, yet he could still hear their voices, calling, crying. He covered them over and tapped down the dirt, protecting them the only way he had left.
He knew he would never be warm again.