The warrior slumped on the back of his steed, snow crusting his dark hair, dark armour and the dark coat of his horse. The blizzard swirled incessantly. The sun never rose; the only light seemed to come from the white snow that surrounded him, punctuated by the dark shapes of stone walls, infrequent farmsteads and naked trees. He could no longer remember how long he had been travelling for….months, years, centuries. …..
His steed, usually calm when the two of them rode alone, reared up, jolting him back into the present. Vocal cords not used for an eternity emitted soft noises to calm the beast while one hand went to his sword, his squinting gaze trying to pierce the falling snow to pick out an unseen enemy.
He thought his eyes deceived him when he saw a flicker of orange – a fire! But it vanished. Eyes opened wider now he tried to search for it again, thinking maybe he had imagined it. It reappeared, albeit briefly. Sitting up on his mount he kicked his heels to gain a bit more speed from the horse, though the snow made it difficult, not taking his eyes away from the spot where the orange had been.
As they neared the location he started to notice dark shapes sticking up out of the snow, getting larger as he progressed and then out of nowhere, a dark wall loomed in front of him. The horse whinnied and shied away. He stared up to see how high the wall was but only saw the swirl of snow. Shaking his head to clear his vision he turned his horse to the side and slowly they followed the wall til they came to the break. Maybe it had been an archway leading into a busy courtyard once; now it was silent and gaped into an empty space. Steadying his mount he reached a hand out to the brickwork, strangely blackened, and when he brought his gloved had away the snow was covered in black powder. Sniffing, he knew it to be soot.
He urged his horse on through the archway and came upon dark shapes that had once been buildings but were now fire-blackened ruins. He could see no roof over the courtyard but the blizzard did not fall here, though there was already snow on the ground. Where the hooves of the horse would have made a clopping sound on the stone, the snow muffled all sound.
In fact, there was no noise from anywhere. The warrior was not a superstitious man but something about the silence made his skin crawl. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the blizzard still falling past the archway. Turning back, his heart stopped when he caught a glimpse of orange in one of the ground floor windows.
Dismounting, he made his way carefully across the snow towards the window, the beating of his heart thumping in his ears and a cold sweat running down the back of his neck. Reaching it he looked through and found nothing. The wall with the window was the only one standing; the others that should have formed the room behind it had crumbled leaving a packed earthen floor that was somehow absent of snow. He followed the wall along to where it stopped and found a gap that he could pass through. Coming around he kept an eye on his feet, so he didn't slip on any of the snow covered bricks on the floor.
On the other side of the wall he steadied himself, looked up and saw…..her.
Long red hair swirling around her head in a breeze that he could not feel, skin as white as new-fallen snow, eyes as blue as the brightest sapphires that burned into his soul. Her full pink lips smiled at him and two white arms reached out from the dark grey cloak she wore, beckoning to him. He could do nothing but go to her.
Reaching her he took her in his arms, his heart swelling, and kissed her. She was so cold, so pure, but the lips that lasciviously returned the kiss suggested feverish passion and more. He removed the cloak from her, and basked in the radiance of the nakedness beneath– a pristine alabaster goddess before him with fire on her head and loins. He took her in his arms again and laid her on the cloak. It was not long before he took her roughly and while she smiled serenely at him, cooed and kissed, he could not help but weep.
Some hours later he woke shivering despite his woolen travelling clothes. Rolling over he reached his hand out to touch her and only found a pool of water on the ground.