I came to a halt outside the city gates. There was no need to go inside; the guards could take the package from here. That suited me just fine, I was of no mind nor mood to enter. I longed to be on my way, away from people; I wished for the company of only one person and she was a long way from where I now stood.

Beside me, Fantasy tossed his head and stamped his hoof, seemingly desperate to move on as well. The albino thoroughbred had been named, for all intents and purposes, by my daughter, Marie, who had sworn he was just like a horse from a book her mother had once read to her. She could not recall which story, though I am certain it was the bible as that is the only book I can remember Laura reading her. Still, the colt needed a name, and so, after much debate, my four year old and I finally settled upon Fantasy and the horse seemed to take to it kindly.

A guard appeared then, at last. My hands were numb with cold and I knew a storm was soon to come. Another guard appeared behind the first and the two of them walked toward my cart, shoulders hunched against the strong winter wind. The closer they came, the more skittish Fantasy became. I stroked his neck and whispered comfortingly and by the time the guards reached us, the albino horse was quite calm.

"Good to see you again, Arthur!" Exclaimed the younger of the two, – I believe his name was Samuel – clapping me on the shoulder. "Where have you been?"

"Away." I replied sullenly. Fantasy whinnied, eager to be off.

"How fares Laura?" he asked, apparently oblivious to my ill humor. I turned away from him as a sharp pain stabbed my heart. Behind me, I heard the other guard, Henry, push him roughly and hiss something about inconsideration.

I ignored this and seized the handles of the topmost crate in the back of my cart. Heaving it over the edge, I spun around to face the guards once more, and, without looking at either of them, shoved the box into the arms of the nearest one. Samuel bent down, placing it on the ground, and pried the lid off to count the munitions within. After a moment, he nodded to his partner.

"Many thanks, Mr. Crane," said Henry, placing two too many coins in my palm. I pocketed the payment without comment, and steered Fantasy back the way we had come.

The yearling and I set off down the road and before long, I found myself back in the woods. I was fairly certain they belonged to William Hutchinson, son of the doctor who had helped my little Marie with her pneumonia and tried to do the same for Laura. My son and youngest child, Nathaniel, had been lucky enough to avoid the sickness altogether. I suppose I ought to consider myself lucky as well seeing as I had not fallen ill either, but curiously, I didn't. It was awful to sit and watch, able to do nothing, unable to even understand or offer anything but empty comfort.

I stopped suddenly then, for no other reason but to rest. The proprietor's house was far away in the village, so he would not see me stopping here to admire his woods.

I stood between the tall trees, looking out toward the frozen lake. These woods were lovely, dark, and deep and my weary feet were grateful for the respite. Snow drifted down upon the forest and I realized then how much I longed for sleep.

Fantasy gave his harness bells a shake as if to ask, "What is the matter?" The only other sound was of a light wind and the muffled silence of a soft cascade of downy flakes.

I glanced back, past my little horse, into the back of the cart where there lay a few more undelivered crates. I shook my head. I could not linger here. I had quotas to meet, children to feed, and promises to keep.

I pulled my pale horse on again and trudged down the snowy woodland path where I'd first laid eyes on my beloved. I thought of our bed, so many miles away, warm, but empty.

It would be a long while before I returned to it and longer still before I could sleep.