Zèklè

Zero was born in Birdsong, when the world was green and bright and new. Like a true bird his mother had born him into nature's gentlest season, and the boy had thrived beneath soft rains and the warmth of the Throat, growing bolder and brasher with every passing breath. Through eyes that reflected the sun he watched as trees grew leaves, then flowers, than fruit. As he slowly weaned he came to delight in the taste of fresh clover and succulent grass. As far as he was concerned, the world would stay this way forever, and he could life with that.

But spring did not last forever.

He learned to sweat when summer came. He discovered the special delight of sleeping in a patch of shade, or swimming in the clean Oasis. He discovered how annoying flies were, and how useless a colt's bottlebrush tail was at swatting them away. He watched for sunsets that came later and later, thrilled in days that lasted longer and longer... until one day they stopped lasting so long, and it was Orangemoon. Leaves that the trees had worked so hard to grow began to falter, falling in swirling piles of red and gold which were just so fun to go tromping through. Then Zero started chasing zephyrs, and laughing at storms, and wished more than ever that he could fly.

He'd been pretty sure that he'd seen everything. Helovia experienced seasons in extremes, and though he had not yet traveled particularly far north, the boy was pretty sure there couldn't be much that was particularly exciting up there, besides mountains. And mountains, he had learned, were a daunting challenge for someone who couldn't fly. Why the unicorns hadn't wanted to just live in the south with the rest of everyone was beyond Zero; he'd never live in the mountains, that was for sure.

Winter had crept up slowly, and then fallen all at once. One day he'd crossed the bridge and the world had been just the same as normal, and the next, bam!, there was cold white stuff everywhere! He'd never seen anything like it. It was wet, but sometimes it was hard and sometimes he sank in it but other times he just slid.

Like right now.

It was rare that Zero got to spend time just with his Ma. She was very busy, after all, being chancellor and gladiator and pretty much running the Dragon's Throat. The boy understood this, of course- he was very proud of his Ma, and because he was very brave he rarely complained about how often she was away. But nothing could have stopped the lightning's son from sharing with his mother the magic of snow, and so it was a very insistent and exuberant Zero who led Ampere to the Thistle Meadow. Or rather the SNOWY MEADOW, as he had very cleverly renamed it. Squishy the Golem trailed behind them contentedly, ambling through the deep snow with all the patience of sentient stone, watching as his owner jumped from snow drift to snow drift on spindly legs, using his wing for balance, or propulsion, or even as a fifth limb. He was growing taller, though not by much, and the mane and tail which had once been as scruffy as milkweed were now longer, thicker, and almost luxurious. The metal which crawled from his side now covered his shoulder and was encroaching on his leg, and he wore the white feather of Zahra alongside his mother's blue one with a certain degree of... sell, something that wanted to be dignity, but probably never would.

He was telling Ma all about some of his new friends ("There's a girl an' she didn' have a name an' then we gotted one from a whale an' there's'nother girl named Zah'a an' she had a kitsune named Bird an' I made her a golem to keep 'er safe an'...") when his hoof hit something hard, and he slipped, slid, and generally sprawled across something else entirely new. Zero blinked, blowing snow from the edges of his nose, and lowered his head to inspect what it was he'd fallen on. It was... white, he supposed, but also not, kind of like... like...

"Look Ma! This water's hard!"