Walking the train tracks is tedious. The ties are not ever placed in an even walking stride, you have to half step or jump, it takes concentration best used for other, more interesting things. He thought that maybe the slaves so many years ago placed the ties for maximum discomfort of the ruling class who may one day be walking along them... a belated "fuck you and your life" from the unmarked grave. Mismuth smiled at that. He'd always been intuitively on the underdog side and it made him feel good that his discomfort might be the goal of some impoverished minority.
The feeling passed quickly as the snow covered Mismuth's field of vision again in a quick flurry. Behind him, the engineer, conductor and several porters were bleeding to death due to a mob mentality that he had, for a second, been whole-heartedly part of. No one wanted anyone who might be responsible for this mess in control of anything. Emotions ran high, things were said, then things were done. Anyone that knew anything about train operation was tried, sentenced and put to exsanguination. This left everyone with a gnawing question: why did they stop the train? the going hypothesis was that there was nothing ahead. Only the greed and lies of a few train based oligarchs caused them to make up a threat... but the new governing council needed to be sure. So they sent a scout down the train tracks to see if there was anything there.
Mismuth started shivering a bit more intensely. Shivering in the way you know you can't just calm down and stop. Still the same snow fell, ambivalent and smug. This here was the snow's terrain, Mismuth was merely a speck in the snow's demesne, a tiny living spark among a huge wasted terrain owned by frozen precipitation. "Barely worth noticing, really," Thought snow, "except it'll be fun when the other things get to him." Snow is so fucking SMUG.
Mismuth stopped and looked behind him. The wind made a strange sound, like a chuckle... he continued shivering till his vision became a dual paned window, angled sharply askew. His knuckles, even tucked into his armpits, started becoming ethereal, weightless, imperceptible. He had long ago given up on feeling his toes, but his fingers were harder to deal with. His shivering intensified till the landscape took on a perceived quaking with each breath.
Up ahead, on the train tracks, as Mismuth squinted, he thought he heard whisps of organ music, or maybe accordion. Then nothing, cold biting wind and shivering. He trundled on... ankles and wrists numb now... "If I'm this cold now how could I get..." he turned his head to look back down the tracks just as he heard a massive rumble. the ground itself had started moving and lurching under him shaking and thrusting... Mismuth barely regained his balance before he noticed that the undulation under his feet perfectly matched his trembling eyesight. the waves that had obliterated his capacity for sight and breathing and coherent thought were all of a sudden matched by opposite waves, canceling each other out so that Mismuth came to a sudden clarity, the railroad ties rose to meet his awkward footfalls, the landscape smoothed out into a beautiful barren blue-scented retreat... the earth below, owned by snow had come to accept him as its own, he was OK and a feeling of warmth spread from his feet (he had forgotten what having feet felt like) up through him... the snow parted, refusing to fall on him and he looked up and saw exactly what it was that had stopped the train, why the engineer and conductor had stopped, what was waiting for everyone that survived. Mismuth smiled as the paired oscillations grew slower, calming, slower. His breaths matched, no longer afraid, he just breathed when it felt right. He thought of cotton candy as he layed back into the pillow-like snow and released himself to fate.