Sharing a Cold One
By MootheBloo

When you live completely alone in your own little cabin, too far off the map for anyone to know your name, it can be difficult for anything to excite a person anymore.

They appear so rarely that I have to prep myself to never look forward to it. Even with the slight glimmer of sunlight being reflected off snowfall through clear glass, I have to emotionally scold myself…sometimes to the point where I don’t even bother to look out my window somedays. What you don’t know can’t hurt you after all.

It isn’t until night falls and one undisciplined glance out the window to the backyard porch shifts into an enthusiastic stare. They’re actually out there! I casually but immediately put my winter wear on, grab a beer, and slide open the door. I kick some snow off the top step and sit next to the featureless shadow creature I’ve come to know as an unlikely acquaintance.

Thankfully the snow has stopped. Not a cloud in sight. Only the shine of a bright full moon pleasantly reflects the newly frozen terrain that the field has been molded into before our… or, my… eyes, I guess.

As I sit thinking about that, the creature shifts itself as if to look at me. I gesture and offer him (or her) my beer, not expecting too much. The creature reaches out a stumpy arm, and despite having no thumbs effortlessly holds onto the can. They hold it up to what I assume is their “face,” only to freeze mid-movement. They shake the can up and down in a confused manner before giving it back to me solemnly. I reach out for the can and as I hold onto it, the liquid inside is still. The drink has frozen.

Oh well, I guess I’ll figure out what to do about that later. I rest my arm. It’s the thought that counts after all.

I smile at the creature to show no hard feelings and go back to enjoying the view.

In the Trees
By Danny Gilhooley

Owen grunted and lifted another shovel full of snow. It was already up to his knees and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. It wasn’t even supposed to snow. Tracey said that, and he believed her.

He turned back to the cabin where they were staying for the weekend. The truck was brushed off but in the rest of the driveway, it was like he never started shoveling.

And no sign of Tracey. She promised she would be outside after cleaning up the house. Again, like an idiot, he believed her.

“Stop,” he said aloud. That was why they were here. To fix things up.

“If you have a problem, just tell her. You’ve known her long enough. She’ll understand.”

He turned back to the woods to start shoveling again. All the trees were bare. They appeared darker against the harsh white of the snow, each of them a straight black line surrounding the cabin like bars of a prison.

Except for that short one. It was the weirdest tree he had ever seen. It almost looked like…

Owen stopped shoveling.

It looked like a person. The silhouette started thin but got wider as it went to where the hips should be. Then it curved in, then out, then stopped with a circle, with wavy branches getting caught in the breeze.

Exactly like hair.

“Hello!” Owen called.

The silhouette started to move. A step. A step towards the cabin.

“Hey! What are you doing here!” Owen shouted.

He dropped the shovel and moved into the woods. The silhouette changed directions to move behind one of the larger trees. Owen was in front of it in seconds.

“How did you get out—”

He moved around the tree. No one was there. He looked down and saw footprints in the snow. They stopped in front of the tree.

Owen looked up. The snow kept falling.

No one was there…

“Owen?”

Owen flinched and looked back to the cabin. It was Tracey. He made his way back to the cabin. There was still plenty of shoveling to do.

Freedom
By. CosmicDesperado30

Tricia noticed her husband’s distant stare before the twinkling powder outside. First snow of the season, he always gets like this she thought.

“I have to go,” Mark looked like he was about to cry, moving to the front yard. Despite Tricia’s concerns, she let him go out. In the ten years they had been married, he had always done this; the one genuine oddity in their relationship.

Mark had never drank to excess, and he was by all accounts a loving spouse. But every single year, when the snow came, he just had to know.

He just had to know he could go outside and enjoy it.

Mark sat in the cold for a few minutes, letting the melted flakes soak his pajamas and bare feet. Even as the ice needled his bare flesh he couldn’t help but smile. He made a snowball and let it settle in his open hand. It was the good packy kind of snow, perfect for snowmen and snowball fights.

“You shouldn’t be here you know.” a voice from the past called out on the wind. Mark could feel a plastic band around his wrist, the sterility of a hospital ward passed like a phantom through his nostrils.

“You’re not well. You can’t be allowed outside. In fact, it’s time for your medication.” the nurse continued.

Mark shook his head. What happened was a long time ago. The pills. The long stretches of memory ripped from his skull. The anger of being locked up just written off as an episode and the dosages being cranked up. Seeing the snow fall through barred windows, promising serene bliss from the chaos of the ward and being under clinical thumbs.

“You cannot control your anger, that is why you’re not allowed out here. Do I need to get the orderlies again?”

“Leave me alone.” Mark breathed. Like a spell the nurse’s authority faded into the icy wind.

Mark dropped the snowball, content with things being as they should. Tricia welcomed him back inside, cups of cocoa prepared.

Snowmageddon
By: Preserves Roses

After several days of hype, before daylight on Friday it started to snow.

Snow when it falls is silent, just a gentle little plop on your hood or your face. This time winds came with the snow and they howled and made the snow sting as it slammed against your skin. Everyone in the city was tucked up snuggly in their homes. No school, no work, better to stay safe at home.

The city for that day was quiet.

The snow as it fell was silent, what is one flake of snow? Or even a hundred? Such little things. This snow though came in its multitudes. Is the neighbours house still there across the street? I’m not sure because I can’t always see it between the snowflakes, the wind has whipped them into a frenzy. What? Your baby really wants to be born today? Well you will have to drive your snowmobile to the hospital, it’s the only way to get there. The snow plows have lost their battle against the snow, they give in and admit defeat. Parked by the fire station the plows turn off their rumbly motors.

The snowplows have fallen silent in the storm.

The snow lays heavy and quiet upon the city. Dawn has come, the snow has stopped falling and the winds have blown themselves out. More than 70cm, over 2 feet of snow has fallen in 24 hours. In some places the snow is knee deep, in others the drifts have piled up over people’s heads. A kindly neighbour has come to dig out my door so I can get out, the snow had drifted all the way to the top. I have trouble finding my car in the driveway it has been completely buried. There is no rush to get it out, I have nowhere to go. The Mayor has closed the city: no one can go anywhere until the streets are cleared of snow. Everyone is to stay at home.

The city stayed quiet for a week.

Static Snow
By Speckled

“How many were on the slope at the time?”

“Fifteen at least. . . lets go.”

“ . . . “

“Hurry!”

“The dogs found someone!”

“Come on, help me!”

“ . . . “

“Hey. . . are you alive?”

“They’re unconscious. Get them on the stretcher.”

“Another here!”

“ . . . “

“Still unconscious?”

“A coma, I’m afraid.”

“Is the family on their way?”

“Yes.”

“What will you tell them?”

“The truth.”

“ . . . “

“Oh Robert! Can he hear me?”

“It’s possible. Some coma victims remember everything after their recovery, some have total amnesia.”

“Robert, I don’t know if you can hear me. But if you can, know I love you more than anything else in the world and nothing will ever change that. Know that when you recover, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“So will I, dad.”

“Is . . . Is he crying? Maybe he can hear us!”

“. . Maybe. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“I promise Robert that we will take turns visiting every day until you’re recovered. Right, Mike?”

“Yeah, of course, mom.”

“I love you honey, Mike will see you tomorrow.”

“ . . . “

“How i – – e today?”

“Same – – alwa – – – rs Rambelle.”

“Oh Robert, I – – – yo – u – – – come back – – me.”

“ . . . “

“Good – – – – noon – dr. – – – – – – any – – – pr – gress?”

“No – I – – – fraid – – e – se – – ms – – to – be – – w – – se.”

“Dad – I – – lo – – – yo – – .”

“ . . . “

“Ro – – – rt – – – s – – – e – – – I – brou – – t – – yo – – – ometh – – – . Me – ry – Chr – – st – – s.”

” – – I – lo – – y – – “

“ . . . “

“These things rarely last longer than five weeks.”

“I know, I know. It’s been three.”

“Dad? Hey dad? Do you think you’re ready to come back to us?”

“. . . mmmm . . . nnn . . “

“Dad. . . oh my God dad. . . your. . . your eyes are open!”

“Th. . . thank you for waiting for me.”

Final Respite
by Lunabear (Detective Norton Universe) (Private Repost)

Small, soft pearls fluttered around Casey as she lay splayed on her back. The cold flakes melted as they kissed her skin. The liquid scored temporary tracks down her pallid cheeks.

Each breath was deeper than the previous ones.

Nothing else stirred save the frigid wind and the intermediate landing of heavier snowfall. There WAS an odd scraping that accompanied each bit of snow that joined the earth, but she didn’t mind; it was magical here.

How she longed for her father to share in the beauty and quiet of the moment with her. He loved times like these. Although, he’d admonish her for being out in such weather in her sundress and bare feet.

‘Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m warm enough thinking of your hugs.’

She found it queer that she couldn’t speak. That’s funny. How could she have a mouth but not be able to talk?

A strange giggle crawled from her abused throat, and it caused her head to swim. Now that she was in the mood to notice things, from her knees down felt numb. She couldn’t even tell if her toes were wiggling.

That was odd.

The sun-drenched sky above rumbled, startling her out of her giddy state. “SLEEP.”

More snow pelted her face. This batch stung, however. It felt like pellets or rocks being shot through a straw.

‘But if I sleep, my dad won’t know where I am.’

Where WAS she, anyway? And why wouldn’t her body move when she tried sitting up?

The fog at the edges of Casey’s mind parted enough for the winter wonderland to melt away and reshape into damp earth and strips of dead grass.

The last thing she remembered was eating what she’d hoped was food. Everything after was blackness.

Her heart jackhammered against her ribs. Hot tears rushed to free themselves from her eyes. For the first time in her life, her armless state made her feel helpless.

She was going to be just like all the other women on the news.

‘I’m sorry, Daddy. I fought hard.’

More dirt fell over her, and her mind quieted.

The Man in the Snow
By Sandeen (SouthernWolf)

The snowflakes danced, calling to me. Or, perhaps, it was just him calling to me.

I didn’t see him through the window, of course. It was the late afternoon with the light just beginning to fade, the trees were cast in pale shadows. The core frost coated all of the trees, creating a magical winter land that had a green carpet until the snow started to stick.

How could I not go outside and spin in the snowfall?

At first, he was nothing but a shadow in the corner of my eye. A vague shape that seemed to follow my steps. Then there was a man holding my hand and spinning me through the trees and deeper into the growing shades. His eyes were pale enough that it looked as if he had snowflakes sitting within them, and he towered over me.

I couldn’t see my home and the forest had fallen into a moonlit night. Something that shouldn’t have been possible as the night before had been a new moon. Time had disappeared along with the green forest floor. I considered speaking up after noticing this, and then a deep voice emanated from my dance partner.

“What, do you wish to leave me?”

Before I could respond, we started to spin faster and faster.

And that was when I noticed something odd, beyond the strange lighting and unrecognizable forest with the trees growing to sizes I had never seen before.

Our dancing feet made not even a whisper against the snow.

No crunching, no cracking, and the flakes weren’t disturbed by our movement.

“Of course I wouldn’t leave you. What do I have to go back to?”

The Quiet of Fresh Snow (also in private)
By MysteryElement

I had always thought the Winter King would have blue eyes. That’s how the stories portrayed him, or any other emissary of winter. The gaze I now faced was a ruddy brown, like oak leaves reluctant to fall away, the white of his eyes like encroaching frost. I had not meant to look, I had not known he was there, but when I turned down the snow-covered trail our eyes had met. I don’t think he meant to look at me either. The snowfall around us was deafening, absorbing all sound as it feathered the ground in white.

CRACK.

I turn my head just in time to see a deer’s white tail as the poor creature leapt further into the woods. When I turned back the eyes were gone. There was no one there. I released my breath, billows of white clouding my face before wisping into the cold wind. I could still feel the deep cold of those eyes reaching into me as I continued my walk.

Small details filed into my memory as I walked. His hair had been striped with deep browns and ebonies. He had worn trousers, but his chest and feet had been left bare to the cold. His skin had glowed pale and cold like moonlight. He should have felt out of place.

The snow fell harder, and the trees seemed to draw closer around me making everything unfamiliar and claustrophobic in the haze of falling snow. I took a deep steady breath to calm myself but could not shake the dangerous stillness. I released another long breath, but there was no white cloud this time. I sigh deeply, purposefully, but could not generate enough heat to warm the air.

A branch cracked behind me, and like the deer I thoughtlessly leapt into the underbrush in some adrenaline-addled thought of preservation. I could no longer feel the cold, but my lungs burned with a strange fire as I stood. I saw nothing but trees, and heard nothing but the silence of falling snow.

Vestigial Processes
By Mango Gravy

The snowfall was gentle for the first time in months, allowing them to survey the area without special equipment. They were looking on a large nest. Five thousand lived there in small, white domes. There used to be millions.

“Such resilient creatures,” He said, “Beat them down and they cling on like… like parasites, I suppose. There’s a colony to the south, they built these pylons that-”

“You seem so fond of them,” She interrupted, “but still you enjoy this slow extermination.”

“Fascinated, more like. That’s why I prod them like this, instead of just being done with it.”

One of the creatures stepped outside its small home, padded thickly with clothing, and by some twist of chance it looked up at the cliff on which They stood, directly into Her eyes. It was young, a child. As She saw the sad look in its eyes, a peculiar feeling rose up in Her heart. Empathy? Was She sharing in the creature’s pain?

“They seem sentient.” She said, “Intelligent even. They know this snow isn’t natural and they grow anxious. Terrified. This way of doing things is far too cruel.”

He scoffed. “You’re just projecting onto them since they look a bit like us.” He turned to Her, and the usual gleam in His eye seemed wicked now, “And besides, what does it matter?”

“Can’t we just do it faster this time?”

“Why? You’ve done this before. Plenty of times.”

‘No,’ she thought. ‘Never like this. The others weren’t sentient. Were they?’ She looked away.

“Bah. Take one of them as a pet if you like,” He said, “I’ll hasten the process since this bothers you so much, but you can’t shy away from your duty.”

“Of course, I just… never mind.”

The wind began to pick up, no doubt His doing. The wind whistled, then howled, throwing up snow all around them, and the nest slowly faded, masked by the storm.

But it was quiet. This planet had been beautiful, once. Full of life. Now it was so empty and, despite the tempest, it all seemed so quiet.

Chronicles of The Dragon: Warmth In The Cold
by Makokam

Soft, freshly fallen snow blanketed the world, perfectly muffling her footsteps.

Her ears twitched.

Her tail swished.

She stalked ever closer to her prey.

His back was to her, obliviously standing at the edge of the pond, looking out over the water.

The range was perfect now. Her lips pulled back.

She pounced!

“OOF!”

“Hello Berri.”

“Damnit,” she said, hanging from his shoulders, “I didn’t even budge you.” She pulled herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist and hanging her arms over his shoulders. “Did you know I was there?”

He smirked, “Of course I did.”

“But I was so quiet!” she cried, and slumped against him.

He bumped his head against hers, “I never said I heard you. In fact, I didn’t.”

“Then how’d you know I was coming?” she said, turning her face to his.

“I can sense your body heat.”

She wilted against him, “So I can never sneak up on you.”

“Don’t feel bad. Almost nobody can. Not even Crow.”

“Hmmph.”

He turned his head back to look out over the pond.

She followed his gaze for a minute, before turning her head back to him. Lips brushing against his skin, she said, “So why are you here? I usually find you on rooftops.”

He smiled, “Usually that’s where you get the best views. But not on days like this. You also don’t usually get quiet like this at ground level.”

“Mmm. I guess you’re right.” She pulled herself tighter around him.

“Are you getting cold?”

“A little.”

A gentle wave of heat brushed by her, slowly enveloping her whole body.

She nuzzled into him again, “I thought you’d want to go inside.”

“We could do that too,” he said with a growing grin. “I’ve been out in the cold too long anyway. Was starting to forget what inside was like.”

He felt her frown.

“How long since you slept?”

He shrugged, “A week?”

“Mm. Well, I know someplace warm for you to rest.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “New place?”

She nodded.

He gripped her firmly, “Alright, give me directions,” and leapt over the trees.

Digging Joy From The Cold (Nyssa’s Story)
By Calliope Rannis

Another day in her lonely tower. Snow had fallen last night.

Nyssa looked towards the University outside, blanketed in white. It looked beautiful. Nothing like the dark, messy room she’d been living in for the last two years.

Snow had been rare where she lived, but she remembered almost exploding with excitement whenever she saw that white world outside. Back then, she’d do everything she could think of – rolling it up into snowpeople, shaping snow bugs and snow lobsters with her body, throwing snowballs off the cliffs and watching them fall into the sea…

It also reminded her of how it had never felt the same since her mother had died. She’d stopped playing with it after that. Now snow was just an excuse for her to stay inside.

Nyssa looked away, her eyes catching the reflection in her askew mirror. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, looking barely any different from the clumps of hair building up on the floor. Her skin was going pale from the lack of sunlight.

She tried to smile. Her lips pulled back from her teeth. Her brown eyes stayed as dark and dull as before.

A familiar knocking shattered the suffocating silence. Nyssa jerked in surprise. She was here? During winter break? She went to open the door, saying “Iyra, you know I’m not doing study sessions during holidays…” before seeing a beaming smile on the half-elf student’s face. “Oh. What’s the occasion?”

“SNOW!” Iyra spun around, arms outstretched in wonder. “Look at it Professor! It’s so, so beautiful!”

Nyssa cocked her head curiously. “I’ve never seen someone so excited for snow in…well, thirty years. Why come to tell me about it though?”

“Well, it’s just that – we never HAD snow at home. I only ever heard of it, and now it’s everywhere!” She spun again, overwhelmed. “Honestly I – I don’t know what to do. Professor, you’ve lived here for years, what DO you do with snow?”

“Never…had…” Nyssa paused, staring into space. Then she smiled, as a distant light began to shine within her eyes. “I have a few ideas.”

The First Quiet Winter
By LewdCharizard

“Mama, it’s so quiet! Why is it so quiet?”

“Oh my little bunny, have I never told you?”

“Well, yes. But, it’s just SOOOOO quiet.”

“Well, you’re in luck; we have just enough time before we reach the briar patch.”

Once upon a time, winter was the noisiest season of the year. Madame Winter would busy herself setting all the animals to hibernate, even us rabbits back in those days. And when she was done, she would have just enough time to whip up a batch of big snowflakes, as round as berries. Mr Color would paint them bright red, and Auntie Sound, having no animals to give voice to, would yell “Tinkle-tankle” every time one of them touched the ground.

However, as the years went by there were more and more animals, and Madame Winter found she was falling behind. So, she asked Auntie Sound to help. Auntie Sound would make big round snowflakes and she had just enough time to yell “tinkle-tankle” in between. And when all the animals were asleep, Madame Winter would help finish.

But, there were even more and more animals, and now Auntie Sound was falling behind. So, they asked Mr Color for help. Years went by with noisy, red snowflakes, and eventually Auntie Sound and Mr Color got quite bored. So, they decided to play a joke on Madame Winter. While Madame Winter was away, setting the animals to sleep, Auntie Sound and Mr Color snipped every snowflake into a different shape. It was so much work, there wasn’t time to whisper a “tinkle-tankle” or to paint the snow even a pale pink.

When Madame Winter came back, and found them waiting, she didn’t raise her voice, and her cheeks didn’t flush in anger. Instead, with sparkling eyes, she smiled and said a gentle, “Thank you.” Now, every year, they make quiet, white snow, and Madame winter even leaves some animals awake, so she has time to enjoy their marvelous work.

No More Snowmen
By T.E.

A starry night among frosted pines. All around me, snowflakes whirled and fell. I looked around, curious about my surroundings. Among the trees, a timber house, grey smoke billowing from its warm chimney. Through lit windows, two children gawked at my winter wonderland in awe. A wonderful world to behold, truly. But it wasn’t for me alone to enjoy.

“You look ridiculous. That nose doesn’t suit you.”

This speaker resembled a drift of snow. Only the beady black eyes and the malformed pebble-mouth indicated otherwise. “There’s nothing wrong with my nose,” I said. But doubts beset me, for my nose was, in fact, a carrot.

“One thing’s right off about it. It’s mine.”

I took hold of my nose with nimble twig-arms. “Who are you?”

“Your predecessor. Look around,” the heap instructed me. “It’s all a lie. When the sun rises you’ll melt away. And then, when you’re a heap like me, they’ll pluck that big nose of yours right out and plunge it into their next creation.

“What can we do?” I asked my worn companion.

“Nothing,” he said and remained silent for a moment. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“The children remain. They harbor some secret, surely, in that building of theirs. In there, you might stand a chance.”

I began banging my arm against the cool window. I had to get inside. Someone shrieked. Was it working? Would they let me enter? One of the children stared at me in horror. I reached for the handle, forced the door open. Oh, joy! Almost inside. But then, the horrid child set upon me with tiny fists, scratching and clawing at my frozen flesh. I forced myself onward. Pushed her to the floor. I stood victorious for but a moment, for the other, with a particularly nasty punch, sent my head flying across the yard.

A dismembered head, awaiting the “Great melt,” as my companion calls it. Perhaps I’ll get a new chance, a new body. But I doubt it. They throw away my life just as easily as they create new ones.

At least I still have the nose…

Tranquility (Darkspell Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

The soft crunching under his shoes was the only thing Daniel could hear in the vast white field of snow. Once he stopped walking, the forest behind Robin’s Grove became blissfully quiet. The snowflakes swirled around his head, his breath rising in pale mists.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the frigid air, calmly and slowly.

Screams ran through his head, screams of pain and terror. Voices pleaded, argued, bargained with him, as the fastenings of the black briefcase he was holding clicked open. Cruel whispering mingled with the cacophony of trepidation and suffering. He saw his victims, clawing at their eyes, begging for the shadows to fade. When they finally went blind, they screamed about the voices that wouldn’t let them rest.

He was Daniel Armitage, son of the mythical Armitage Matron, the Woman in Carmine. And as such, he was an agent of retribution; of cold-hearted vengeance, directed at those most deserving. He felt it. Every ounce of guilt, of penance, of revenge he dished out was a new nail being rammed into his heart. He didn’t know how his siblings coped with it.

Victoria had once said that the pain he felt was both fuel and foil. Often, when she’d noticed him buckle under the weight of the accursed legacy the Armitage name brought with it, she’d led him away into a quiet room and put on some music for him. Jazz had always calmed him down.

Victoria was dead now. So was Scott and Daniel was alone. Left behind in a life he didn’t want. Because they were heroes. They just had to be heroes. Emily was trying her best at home, but if he was honest, she often made things worse. And he knew what his mother would say.

He was an Armitage. The closest thing to semi-divine nobility a mortal could achieve. He was necessary. An instrument of revenge. A bringer of punishment.

But not today. Snowflakes swirled around him, a cool breeze ruffled his hair, smiling, while he let those two glorious words echo in his mind, drowning out everything else.

Not today.

Coming of Snow and Souls (Sword Isles)
By Connor A.

A snowflake fell through the sky and onto an autumn leaf. A child saw this and went bright-eyed. If she stayed outside for a few more seconds before running in to tell her mother, she would have caught sight of the elderly woman.

Her winter furs only moved when one of her feet poked out for the next step. Most people would not have noticed that the incoming snow followed her specifically, but most that did stayed out of her way and ran inside alongside everyone else to avoid the incoming snow. The empty silence in the streets was music to her ears.

Then there was the wizard, who almost made direct eye contact with her. If the markings on his arms were anything to go by, he was from the movement of shorthand magic. He walked up to her with the confidence more fitting for an adventurer, allowing her to see a hint of red in his otherwise gray eyes.

“Wonderful weather you’re bringing.”

The woman scowled. “Hest, if that’s you in there—”

The wizard raised his hands slightly. “No divine possession here, Old Mother Winter. Just someone needing to talk to one of the recent dead.”

Old Mother Winter considered him. She noticed his necklace— a humble black chord with a silver dragon insignia— and realized who she was talking to with a knowing grin. “Ah, Marcos Fernán.”

Marcos jumped at the sound of his name. The red in his eyes flickered away for a brief moment. “You know me?”

“Any human that can make my grandson smile on the job is someone worth remembering.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up, but he shook himself out of it. “I need to speak to someone.”

Old Mother Winter chuckled. “I’ll need to see Death for that. Formalities and all.”

Marcos motioned for her to follow him.

As they walked, the goddess asked, “So who’s the lucky soul?”

“Salaman.”

“I heard you already tried speaking to him.”

“He can’t really do his usual shit around a goddess, now can he?”

Old Mother Winter decided then that she approved of Marcos.

In the Frosts (reposted from private)
By Clanso

As soon as snow started to fall Ada was out of the door, immediately forgetting everything her protectors had told her about why they needed to stay cautious and hidden. She stopped dead in her tracks about 100 meters from the house and looked up at the sky. “… blabla, who cares, there’s nothing here that could harm us anyways, Concern, you know that! ” Ada tried to catch a snowflake with her mouth and missed.

Little did she know (or care) that there *were* things out here that could in fact harm her and her guardian. Apart from the gunman of the White Court, who would be almost indistinguishable from the falling snow should he choose to attack, there was also the biting cold of the Frost. Rainbows were not made for the cold. After all they need rain to thrive.

” …but it’s snowing! Come on, Concern, live a little!” The swirling colors of Ada’s skin seemed even brighter against the stark contrast of the white snow. It almost seemed to glow from the inside. That alone made her stand out, so she didn’t have to run around like a maniac and talk to empty air to make it worse.

“I’m not a maniac.” Ada scolded playfully as she began to climb a tree next to the hut. It’s her nature to climb high but right now that was a very unwise decision. She could fall off and hurt herself. The White Courter could spot her even more easily and if that didn’t make her obvious enough she was the loudest thing in the entire Frosts right now. She was bound to draw unwanted attention…

Ada groaned. “Alright, partypooper! I’m going! I’m going!”

Besides. Simone was waiting inside with a hot cup of tea and some nice, freshly made purple.

“Really?” Hearing that Ada all but jumped from the lowest branch and ran back towards the safehouse. “Race you back!”

[From the treeline the White Court’s best assassin watched the scene in silence and smiled to herself. Then the door of the house closed and all was quiet once more]