The wintry world held its breath; time frozen in ice. Nothing seemed to move but the clouds overhead that floated by, and the snow that shifted as if stirred by a ghost’s hand, yet was only moved by silent breaths of wind. The land stretched bleakly on for miles, the ground having developed a hazy blue tinge as it was encased with ice and covered by snow. In the distance, the line where faded mountains met the watery blue sky was smudged and uncertain. The seemingly constant winter had made this region indecisive. Was the reflection of the sky in the mirror-like ice not a fraction of the heavens, captured until the sun’s caress melted it into water? Were the thick drifts of snow simply that, or clouds that have lost their wings and fallen ungracefully to earth? If this were the truth, it came as no surprise that the mountains were bleeding into the sky, as if reaching out to embrace the sun and covet its warmth.

Through the frozen silence, a Unicorn walked. The stallion’s hooves etched deep marks into the snow, crunching over brittle ice and dead grass hidden beneath the cloak of white. His golden hide was a fraction of the sun, shining with all the star’s brilliance, yet laced with silver frost that aged him years beyond his youth. The metallic horn that parted his champagne forelock reflected the image cast before him; a watery painting of diluted ink, patched up with whiteout so all the colour had bled from the canvas. It was a horribly bleak, lifeless picture. Roland shivered against the cold hands that sank their fingers into his fur. Aside from the thud of every bitter footstep, the only sound to liven the deathly silent valley was the hiss of his breath through his throat. Condensation clouded before his face, spiraling like dancing smoke until it dispersed into the frostbitten air.

Before all hope was lost, a blemish appeared through the sifting snow; a sudden break in the land as it sank below the stallion’s sight, the fingertips of a giant pressed into the earth itself. From this gaping maw rose a curtain of steam, shimmering like a winter specter against the backdrop of purple mountains. As Roland neared, blue eyes brightened in hesitant curiousity, the murmur of moving water manifested in the shell of his ear, beckoning his weary limbs closer. Against the protest of aching muscles, he moved, until the tips of his charcoal painted hooves brushed the edge of the pool. Below him dark water frothed and bubbled, swirling like a well of black ink in the confines of the earthen walls. Warm mist rose into his face, clouding his eyes and condensing on his finely boned face. Soon water dripped down his chin, and for the first time in days he felt a renewed energy.

He hesitated only slightly as he bent his knees and stretched first one limb towards the writhing water. It swallowed up his leg to the elbow, hot and swirling like liquid fire. Roland expected to never reach the bottom, but soon his hoof struck the sandy terra, cradling his foot in a mixture of soft clay and small rocks. His golden hide was consumed by the hot springs as the stallion lowered himself down, letting the water knead the aches and pain from his taut muscles and melt the frost from the tips of his golden fur. His wandering mind was pacified as the warm water swirled against his sides, blocking out all other sound. From beyond the sheet of steam his eyes could make out nothing but the bleached white of snow and the shadow of distant hills. A heavy sigh escaped the stallion’s lips as his eyelids lowered, and his head drooped against the shelf of earth bordering the spring.

walk walk walk
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