Chapped Lips and Frozen Fire (Arctic)

There was no longer the familiar wheezing of the ginger's father to wake her in the mornings, for that small thing had died with him and in an occult sense, it irritated the teenager. Nowadays, in the month postmortem, she was either awaken by her own biological clock or the shaking hands of her brother, Basil; it was he who woke her this morning. She would start the day off ordinarily, skipping breakfast to go to school where she would yawn throughout the classes as they learned about the variations of wood density and how to tell if a tree is sick before the signs are visible. Afterwards, Poppy would eat her lunch on her way to the lumber yard, where work, and unbeknownst to her, a knew greeting would be awaiting her.
She was quick, Poppy Birchwalker, as he gloved hands shimmied her up the tree, like a squirrel with no care in the world. She went up all the way to where the strong branches grew and let the saw that once hung from her tool belt cut away from the large oak she had perched on. It was so cold up there, chapping her lip with the frigid breezes, and hurting her head with indirect brain freeze; naturally it was a relief to get down from that damned winter hell hole that was the treetop. Work was like this everyday lately, cold and hindering, a tedious chore of up and down large trees, ascending into the wind bitten world above, then back down into the one bitten by frost.
As she reached the ground, Poppy gathered up her lumber, a heavy sap sticky pile, but the smell of sap was kind upon her nose and actually coaxed a smile to a face hidden behind the large pile of wood.
It seemed to be going alright to Pops, she felt her way about the near memorized path and knew she wasn't dropping a twig, which made her feel rather able. However, this would end quickly as the scrawny girl crashed into something, sending her back onto the snowy ground with pile of branches to land a top her chest. Red hair sprawled out of it's hair tie, staining the white as if she had just been assassinated and was notwpooling orangish blood from her hair in copper curls. "What in the-" She cried out in surprise, trying to rid her body of the logs, knowing that would leave a bruise for sure.