He came down from the north like a storm-swept crow, riding on the frigid midwinter wind as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. It appeared a bad omen to behold that ominous color as one stepped onto foreign soil where shadows threw themselves away from the light, long and daunting as though wanting to flee from this land. But he saw not the last rays of light as they dyed the sky in violent red, nor did he shiver in premonition as clawing shadows reached for those long legs in longing for the warmth of his blood.

He didn't see it, yet still a sensation cold and daunting ran down the spine and set the hairs of ebon and silver on edge, electrified as though a current had run through them. The slow, steady gait faltered and delivered him in a halt, that chiseled head rising high with lobes clipping and steaming breath bated as he tried to find the source of the unease. Yet nothing came to him but the nightly noises of a sleeping forest. Above the branches creaked and groaned in the strong wind, canopy dancing to the bass of the earth as barren twigs clattered and snapped. Evergreens sighed, bushes and thickets stirred restlessly and the scent of animal was heavy in the air, a mixture of musk and droppings and fear mingled with the fresh tinge of pine and bark. Snow lay on the ground, he could feel the bite of icy crystals against tender frogs and sensitive coronets, the silken feathering not nearly as thick and impressive as his mothers had been - oh, how he missed her now, missed her gentle presence as the warmth of day had disappeared. He would have given plenty for a guide now, someone to whisper a clue as to which path was safer to travel.

Yet honest folks were scarce in this no mans land, and for a kin-less stray like himself even a kind word would be a blessing.

Continuously listening until the dark destrier had determined that no immediate danger threatened him, he eventually shook the head with a snort and felt the tresses of tangled forelock tickle against the nose as he settled into his slow yet steady meander once more. Carefully each foot lifted into the air, carefully prodding the void ahead before returning to the ground. It was a dance, a graceful march accompanied by the gentle bobbing of the massive spears protruding from his cranium where they swayed from side to side and effectively revealed any obstacle in his path. Not only once, but often, did he change his direction in the journey from tree to tree, not quite keeping a straight line but managing to remain on a roughly western course - towards the place where the sun had set, as though drawn to feel the sweet caress of loving warmth once more.

He didn't know where he was heading. He only knew that he could no longer remain where he had been. So he wandered, blind in a world of color, dark of skin in a dark time with naught but the strength of his remaining senses to guide his way.

And beside him walked misery with a hand upon his shoulder. And behind him followed destruction, ready to do its best wherever he went.

His name was Death, and on his lips a faint smile linger as he walked, humming softly a childhood tune as he headed into the darkness.