It was chilly to say the least, frigid weather had been growing like a sleepless beast in the North. When it grew large enough, the beast traveled from its sacred high place so that it could give a frosty kiss to lower lying valleys below. I slipped from the comfortable warmth of home during colder months, mostly because it was likely one would find a wounded or exhausted traveler in need of assistance, and slightly because home could and did become insufferable at times. Strangers came from outlying territories, and even other herds. Castouts, the rejects, the unwanted, the lost. Some nearly frozen, they walked like living dead. Others collapsed with their face in the dirt, drowning in their own spit; to prideful to die.

I remembered keenly a time when my efforts had been coupled with the King of winter to save one of these poor winter children—even then our talents were used vainly. We hadn’t been able to save that mare from the icy fingers of death. Her lips had turned a shade of blue, then black; helpless rage forever frozen on her face was an image that would stay with me for the rest of my life. Those lifeless eyes, shiny and without a soul—staring up as snow fell all around us.

With any luck this morning wouldn’t be one of death-- or so I hoped. My steps aren’t quiet…but in their defense, whose hoofprints could be in this weather? A rather impressive layer of frost covers the ground, each tap of my shoes create a pleasant and not so stealthy ‘crunch, crunch’ sound. Ivory feathers are plastered against my barrel tightly to retain heat as close to my body as they might. While weaving through the trees I catch wind of a visitor; my snout follows the direction of his faint scent and trails it to just past a brook. Beyond that are two figures, one I recognize instantly as a well-loved battle brother, and friend. The other is unfamiliar, a rusty colored stallion; his body painted by desert tones that had been dulled through a harsh existence.

"Are you lost? Perhaps I could be of assistance...?"

The smile that comes forward is natural. Our sun breaks through a patchwork of bare finger like limbs and scatters its warming rays across my back making my steel collar beam. Pushing on I enter their talking space and offer my soul brother a warm grin with proffered muzzle, “Hail to you both, and may the sun be ever warm on your back during these cold times,” it was an old saying that my Sire used to utter on occasion. Turning now to the trail worn stranger, I am unaware of how much my gaze softens when taking in this proud creature. Physically my pitless pools note weariness but also strength in bones not yet broken by life.