Brutal, Clammy, Dense
Working on my short sci-fi story and this prompt fit in perfect with a section that needed to be rewritten. This might not be the final draft of this section, but it works for this draft.
Marissa walked out of her front door and looked out towards the horizon, the brutal winter weather was setting and the sun was just starting to rise, burning off the dense fog that had blanketed the night. It was bound to be a glorious day. She dried her clammy hands, hitched up her dress and set off to milk the cows.