Knives of Ice

She stood in the river, the water like knives of ice freezing her veins,
the cold river bed a few feet beneath her thighs. She didn't know
whether to cross or to go forward or to move to the left or right or to
run to the hills or hide beneath the trees. There was no one around to
ask and she'd lost her map long ago. Terror was slowly seizing her, even
as the sweet possibility of hope floated on the breeze. Yet, she stood
there, constantly eroded by the river and gently calmed by the breeze.