When Snow Falls

Lit Up — January’s Prompt: Winter.

Snow gives way beneath heavy boots, each step a deafening crunch that shatters the still air.

He sniffs. Or he thinks he does. It’s hard to tell when his nose is frozen stiff. He fumbles with a gray scarf, stuffing it higher over his face, cursing himself for misplacing his mask.

Footsteps fall unevenly behind him, mismatched against the sounds of his own, and he knows Lin is still behind without having to look.

“Daddy, what’s that over there?”

A blotch of darkness mars the snow up ahead. It contrasts sharply with the whiteness, making it hard to miss. He signals Lin to stop and carries on, the shape growing larger the closer he got.

“Daddy? Is it — is it one of those?”

It is, but he doesn’t say it out loud. It’s completely distorted, nearly sundered to ashes, but the antlers never burn. They turn black, but never to dust. He wonders what it would have been like to see the white stag alive; wonders how long it must have laid there for the fire to have gone out without a trace of smoke left.

“The Hunters got it, didn’t they?”

“…Yes,” he says gruffly, falling to his knees. The least he can do is cover it up. A majestic, pure creature didn’t deserve such a dishonorable death. It deserves to at least be buried, to at least — .

He’s drawn from his thoughts as Lin joins his side and helps to cover the stag with snow.

When they’re done, Lin clasps her gloved hands. Most of her face is protected from the harsh winter with a white ski mask, but he can see the flutter of her brown lashes as her eyes close. Her prayer drifts loud and clear throughout their winter wasteland. “Sleep well, sweet creature. Your journey here was long and cold, but now you bathe in the warmth and light. Sleep well, sweet creature, and venture bravely into the Sunlight.”

They sit there unmoving for a few short breaths. He throws his head back to look at the bleak sky.

“What’s it like, Daddy?” Lin asks. “To feel the Sun? To see it?”

“You wouldn’t want to look at the sun.” Memories form a smile across his lips. “It would blind you; it’s that bright. You know those blue crayons we found the other day? Well, imagine that colored across the sky. Imagine the warmth of fire against your skin, but without the need for winter gear. Imagine trees like the pictures I showed you — so green, and tall, and — ”

He blinks away a small, wet flake that lands against his eyelashes.

Lin breathes. “Snowfall.”

“We must go.”

They jump to their feet and resume their march across the stretch of white. Their steps are faster, more desperate.

“Hurry, Lin,” he says, grasping her hand and tugging her along.

Lin lifts her gaze to the clouds.

When snow falls, silence follows. It’s a beautiful, haunting silence, one that seems to suck her breath away; that seems to suck away any sound and life it touches.

When snow falls, the Hunters come.