There was a small boy inside a basket, but not left on the doorstep of a church or orphanage as you might assume, instead he had been abandoned to die in the cold inside of the woods. A strange fact about humans is that they are the only creature in this world that is so helpless at birth that it stands no chance of surviving on its own.

Not able to move from its basket, nor able to fed itself, or understand its situation it was only a matter of time till the child died with only a single day of life to its name. However chance is fickle and a life that could have been spared its misery was saved by a female slave whose own child had died during the harsh winter’s journey.

Now you might assume that she was neglectful of her own child but as I said she was a slave and as such she was given the bare minimum of food and shelter to sustain her life, and the child she bore was starved of the milk which she could no longer produce due to malnutrition.

The very thought of owning a slave today is sickening to most and I’m not trying to promote slavery, the opposite is in fact true as life today is plentiful and luxurious. In comparison to the people living in that time surrounded by the unknown wilds of an unexplored world living season to season was a struggle, even the obscenely wealthy struggle during times of famine after all who could care less for wealth when you’re starving and have an inability to eat metallic coins to sustain yourself.

It was not uncommon to sell oneself or others of their family into slavery due to desperation and if it weren’t for the treatment and near starvation almost everyone would willingly become one during these times. This winter was one such time of famine and despair ran rampart through the entirety of the kingdom.

So it is no surprise that a woman whose child was born after being sold was in such a position as hers, and a child lay abandoned in the woods near a village. It was the lack of food that placed them in this predicament, but it was also the thing that saved them at least for a while. The child would have met a quick end and the women would have fallen into a deep depression. When you no longer care to live during this time it isn’t too long before you find your end in one way or another.

So they lived in a manner of speaking, as much as survival can be seen as living. The women found something to live for and the child who was almost starved when they reached their destination gained both food and a chance at life.

Not even one month passed since the merchant dropped off the slave at the castle along with the child did the boy fell into fever, leaving him incomparably weak even after his miraculous survival his body did not completely recover. The maid who was now moderately fed due to her being under the king’s servants was now able to feed the boy properly instead of goats’ milk which is full of bacteria because it isn’t pasteurised.

Six years pass and looking at the boy you could tell he was being abused constantly by the fading dark blue and yellow skin and the newer red inflammation. Cuts were visible all over his face although small scratches he would be lucky to avoid infections that would weaken his already fragile body.

Besides this however you could see a smile on his face as he hums a merry tune, his blonde hair as golden as the sun and light blue eyes matching that of the angels displayed on the stained glass in church halls.

If he was both healthy and unhurt he could have turned the gazes of all he passed in admiration of his cuteness but instead it was rumours that turned their heads away from him. He never learned what they were and he didn’t notice anything odd as it had been how everyone around him had acted since he could remember except for his mother.

When he turned six cycles (a cycle being the rotation of the four seasons (a year)) he received his name ‘Winter’ in remembrance of the season he was found. A name is only earned after four cycles since birth unless the child shows a sickly disposition in which case six cycles of life are required for a name. It’s a tradition so that the parents don’t gain over attachment and fall into despair if the child should not survive long passed birth or in the following seasons.

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The boy loved his mother and it was her love that kept him smiling, and his smile that kept her living as she was. Something the boy could not understand though was that every time she saw him there was a moment of sadness that was swept away from her face replaced by a smile similar to his.

During the spring the child caught the attention of the court healer, an old man more wrinkles than skin and sharp eyes. He asked the king for him as a gift for his long service and at the time the king was looking for favour with the old man due to his deteriorating health from age. Separated from his mother the boy began to cry in his cell like room at the top of the healer’s tower, in which the old man beat him to a quiet whimper and returned to making strange concoctions on his desk.

The boy’s food was stale and he was only allowed to drink from the strange vials that were given to him. He tried to avoid drinking them after one of them caused him immense pain but was beaten down by the old man. His frail undeveloped body could be dealt with by the old man with strength to spare, soon enough the boy stopped resisting and drank whatever he was given while the old man sat next to him writing in his note book.

Four cycles later and the boy had forgotten about the outside world, what it felt like, smelt like, and began to think it all a dream he created in his head. His prison was his world and the old man the only person he knew. When there was a particularly painful vial he always recalled these dreams and wonder if there was such a place down the stairs the healer walks up.

He awoke from his dreams to loud thunderous explosions that shook his room and loud shouting that seemed to come from beyond the stone walls. During this time the healer never came, and for four weeks he knew only the strange explosions and the shouting and screaming outside.

Driven by desperation he drank the vials that the healer left in his draw which was enough to let him live but starvation was becoming more and more intense. By the time the doors to his room opened all the vials were gone and he was lying in a daze in and out of consciousness in no condition to recognise who had entered.

There were four of them and as they entered the tower searching for any soldiers missed during the siege they found him. He had pale white hair that matches horrifyingly perfect to his almost ghostly skin. His eyes irises were different colours, the right one crimson and the other silver. He was breathing slow, long breathes from his open mouth in which were two extended cuspids that extended into fangs. His disposition was almost skeletal and the vials around him were strewn either cracked or shards.

The room smelled strongly of herbs that almost covered the smell of urine. One of the men could not handle the sight and vomited on the floor which seemed to wake the others from their daze. The woman of the group discovered the healer’s notes and after reading for a few minutes her already pale face had tears falling from it. The boy was carried by the other two men while the women had the man who vomited arm over her shoulder in a half carry.

The boy awoke in a bed which was softer than he was used to and looked around the room noticing a man who was old and seemed to wear the same cloths as the healer he had known. Although scared he didn’t want to be beaten again so he just looked around the room quietly until the old man spoke. The boy stopped looking around when he noticed the window.

Trembling he touched the plane glass beside his bed and he could see the city below and open green fields that go into the distance, but when he saw the light blue sky littered with small white clouds he started crying, while the old man smiled sadly behind him.

“What’s your name?”

“I-I’m not sure… I think it’s W-Winter” The boy stuttered.

“It’s spring at the moment.” The old man said a bit confused.

“No, my name is Winter.”