A sea of white coated the land, transfiguring it into a clean canvas. A canvases beauty lies in its purity, transient though it may be. An immaculate blade, the untrampled snow, a newborn babe; the world always seeks to chip and paint it with its own color. Leagues behind me, the purity of this perfect white was tainted with the color of a rose. Thorns bit into their flesh, and left their gaping bodies to spill pigment onto the page.
Samuel… Leah… Thomas…
The phantoms of my closest companions pushed me forward, pressing me into the blizzard. They denied me rest. They stalked me in the corners of my eyes and the blurry distance. Their faces, hounds inside my eyelids wearing distorted scowls of tragic malice. They screamed:
“Turn around, coward!”
The idea dreamt by a fool — the idle dreams of one with no love for reality. Yet reality harbored love for us. It was a hulking mass of iron on wheels, escorted by beasts in human skin. We swiftly tasted the savage bite of their blades and bolts. A companion cut down, another ripped to bits. An image of terror still harassed my mind; of Samuel’s pained face as he shielded me with his body.
I shook my head and attempted to leave my weakness behind. I looked down. My freezing fingers clutched the reins of this steed with a tight grip. It did not belong to me, not before, but now my life was in its hands. Thankfully, it was unwounded.
A split in paths presented itself to me. To my East, Reed, was warmth, safety, shelter, but it was a comfort I would not allow myself to take. I had run away to escape her so I could fill my page with the color of atonement. Yet instead I lathered myself in grime, muck, and blood.
North, much further, was Lilysnare, wherein nothing laid in wait for me. I would arrive and laze in the road, waiting for my blood to freeze.
My will pulled me North, my body implored me East. In the end, the decision was not mine. On the East path, a silhouette faded into reality. It advanced, and soon it drew near. My right hand gripped the hilt of my small blade. A pitiful figure threw itself below me and begged, “p-please, I can’t hold on much longer.”
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The voice was strained, but pleasant, it belonged to a woman. She wore extravagant robes of which I had never seen before. This implied wealth and I, ever the opportunist, sought to exploit her gratitude.
I extended her an arm of salvation. She accepted it. Her face scrunched in pain as she fought gravity, and I noticed the gash in her side. She seated herself and held me from behind. “Where is the closest town?” she asked.
“You were on the right path. Ahead is Reed,” I replied. A chilly vulnerability was laced into her words. I wondered, how long had she been out here? How did she arrive with no transportation? I chose to find the answers after our arrival.
Yet that opportunity would inevitably elude me. This horse, exhausted and now shouldering twice the burden, progressed at a crawl. Halfway to our destination, the woman patted my abdomen with lethargy. “I won’t make it. Can… Can I trust you?” she asked.
“Do you have a choice?”
“No… I don’t.”
She was entrusting a variety of objects into a leather saddlebag. “You… Owe me nothing… Yet still I ask of you. Deliver these… To Lady Carnelia…” —Burning the final bits of her life's wick she voiced pleas I could not hope to understand— “And… With your bare hands… Do not touch the jewel…”
Like a curse, that final warning snuffed out all she had left. Her body limp, she sagged off of the horse’s flank, until it was abandoned entirely.
What drove me? Did I so desperately want to be forgiven? Aware that I too would be in danger, I dismounted the steed praying it would not be rid of me the moment it was out from under me. Yet, as if sensing my intentions, it remained. I put an arm under the woman, and slung her onto the back of the horse. Reed was just ahead, and we would make it even if we had to walk.
When we reached the gate my consciousness dimmed. I faded in and out of reality, directing the horse in the small gaps of lucidity. By the time I reached my destination, I had nothing left. The last thing I saw was a young woman coming to my aid.