[ Snow, ice? Dx It was "dew-laden grass" at first ... xD /deals with it ]

Death's winter chill had come for them. The darkness drove them straight into its own heart—a cold and cruel place where the spears of starlight turned the dew into pristine crystals, and the shadows hoarded autumn's first snow. Wet grass turned into wet snow; one treacherous thing turned into another as the white King thundered on, his precarious balance kept by momentum and experience.

Though, he would not deny that the first time his hooves came down hard on the slick, forming ice his heart had flown straight into his throat. He hadn't expected this kind of footing this early, but what sort of soldier would he be if he called this off just because it had been a while since he last ice-skated?

White air had blown out of his mouth in a snort, and he'd gone on, trying to keep some attention on where he put his feet.

He still wasn't sure if her heart was in it—her chase re-ignited the smoldering coals in his spirit, a faint breath blown and causing the fire to flare, and the starlight grows clearer, every edge, every line, more perfect and sharp. Step by step the dark flood erased his uncertainty, and step by step the wicked grin spread across his black lips.

She was coming. His iron titan was coming.

He saw her coming, a steely shadow flashing after him, the tip of her black horn a threat just a breath away from his haunches; he saw their chase, the offhand glints of determination in her moon-grayed eyes. She was coming and her breath was hot and harsh and her teeth demanded his blood—

A white lion prowls the shadows,

—a thought like a soft snowfall, a hum across the aether of his soul. Irma, tracking the beast.

Diego, tracking the chase.

She comes, he whispered, just as Nyx's black maw came his way.

Come. Take it. Take it.

Teeth closed on the white skin of his flank, pinching flesh and nerves and breaking blood vessels beneath—a scream went through his nervous system, fire flaring up, feeding the flame of his creeping madness. "Yes," he breathed, unaware of it, the feeling of the pain and the thrill of being hunted blacking out his senses to all but that all-encompassing sensation—

Large hooves skidded on night-ice, fumbling for purchase and denied; gracelessly the white beast stumbled sideways, to the right, not falling but flailing and losing all momentum.

Bitch, the darkness in his mind spat. No muscles pulled, but the hunt spoiled, and, without thinking, he turned flawlessly in her direction—knowing where she was because his eyes had wings.

"Come closer," he whispered, his voice odd and harsh, the mission of his role forgotten. "It's cold, isn't it?" His breath turned white, his warm body smoking, his eyes like blue fire.

It's cold, isn't it, because I'm loading your veins up with ice.

Small, sharp crystals.. heading straight for her warm, beating heart.

[ 1/3 || 496 words || @[Nyx] ]

lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .