Hexed

The biting wind whipped snow and sleet against your face as you trudged through the frozen woods, the mud and ice seeping into your worn boots.
“Cody!” you called out again, your voice muffled by the thick gloves covering your mouth. Silence answered you, save for the crunch of your own steps and the distant, mournful howl of the wind.
You shivered, burying your hands deeper into your armpits, the cold gnawing at your bones. Why your brother insisted on searching these desolate woods in the middle of winter was beyond you, but here you were, ankle-deep in the frozen muck, desperate to find him.
Ahead, through the skeletal trees, you spotted the crumbling ruins of a small, grey brick building. As you approached, a faded blue sign with a white stick figure caught your eye – an old 'public toilet', a relic from before the Disaster, long abandoned and useless.
Rounding the side, you opened your mouth to call out again, “Co–” before something yanked you violently from the side, slamming you against the cold brick wall with a strangled squeak. Your brother, Cody, stood there, a tight grip on your coat, his eyes scanning the trees, a harsh whisper escaping his lips.