Snow fluttered through the air, brushing against cool, pale skin as it fell to paint the ground white. Mist formed in the air as the man breathed in and out, wrapping his cloak tighter around him. He slipped into the trees, the snow along the ground lessening to almost nothing the deeper he moved into the forest. But the cold remained—the chill of deepest winter, freezing him inside and out. There was a clearing up ahead—he quickened his pace.
The trees opened to a small ice-covered pond. The snow was piling here, allowed in by the lack of coverage from above. The man stopped at the edge of the water. This was the place he had been looking for. He shed his cloak, tossing it over the fallen log at the pond's edge. The snow bit at his skin, but he ignored it. The cold was bearable, unlike so much else he had endured over the years. He pulled a golden locket from within his pocket, clicking it open and running a fingertip along the picture inside.
How he longed to look into the eyes one more time, to kiss those soft lips again. He shook his head, knowing it was useless. His lover was gone, and there was no way to bring him back again. He slipped the locket over his head, feeling the weight of it against his chest. He tested the ice with the tip of his foot. Thin, just as he'd hoped. Ignoring the beauty of the snowy clearing around him, he stepped on top of the fallen log. Spreading his arms wide, he let himself fall forward.
There was a sickening crunch as the ice gave way beneath his weight and then the sharp biting sting of cold was everywhere. He sank down, down into the icy depths of the freezing pond. He closed his eyes, smiling as he saw the oh-so-familiar face of his lover before him, reaching out a hand to show him the way home. It was cold. Oh, so cold.
But the cold was bearable.
And the pain was gone.