Wind was everywhere. It howled and shrieked in a desperate voice, the aggravating sound of sharpening claws as they hone their way down the whetting stone that is the mountain peak, deafening the stallion’s ears. It is a constant disturbance in the wake of every day, another unpleasant addition to the chill temperatures of the Basin that Roland still hasn’t gotten used to; a reminder that the world is under nature’s control no matter how they try to dominate it. Now that autumn is beginning to close shadowy hands around the valley the days are beginning to darken and Roland’s optimism goes with them. Tallsun provided warmth even when snow and ice was ever present, but as the star lengthened its distance from the rocky peaks the weather was growing bitter.

Away from the rest of the herd there were no faces except those of the stars above; no watchers at the moment for whom he must play charades, to pretend he is someone he is not. The wind’s careening through the valley has a note of comfort amidst the discord; it is always the same, something he can count on being there at the end of every day. Above him the skies of autumn were put on display like Heaven battling Hell, clouds twisting together and reflecting the muted scarlet hues of an early sunset. Rays of dying light slanted through the gloom like celestial blades, silhouetting the gray mountains that stretched across the valley like a wall. To Roland they felt like prison bars.

He was not entirely unhappy with his new life in the Basin, but the weather was taking its toll on him. He had been born in a land where summer reigned longer than winter, and even during the coldest months the air still held some distant fragments of warmth. In the shadow of towering cliffs there was no such comfort, and every frosted gale that caressed his face bore another reminder of that fact. As time passed winter grew ever more prominent, and the weary Phantom soon found himself in the midst of a light snow fall as darkening clouds gathered far above his head.

His attempt to escape the flurry was halfhearted, gravitating slowly towards the towering ridges that cradled the valley in its rocky palms. Shards of ice, like weapons shelved precariously upon a rack, cascaded in jagged falls down the uneven mountain face to meet the earth at his feet. Roland sank into their shadows, tilting his chin to brush his muzzle tentatively across one’s pointed edge. It quivered at his touch like fragile glass, threatening to shatter at the smallest of disturbances. The stallion withdrew, admiring the blush of sunset reflected upon each frozen spire like so many vermillion daggers. A thin cloak of snow gathered upon his idle body, speckling his back like a feathery blanket as he attempted to shelter from the gathering squall. He let the wind’s lament lull him into a restless calm, looking out across the flat ground of the Basin and wondering if, when night fell, he would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the Aurora Borealis.

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