Tipper issued a challenge (right now my internet is too slow for me to link you) to write a story inspired by poetry. I chose the end of "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost. I just started a new story that explores the theme from this vignette. It's called Victory or Death.

Thanks to Layla for the quick beta!

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost

…

Rodney held the bundle of clothes close to his chest, careful to keep the cold at bay. Snow crunched beneath his weight. His breath held still in the winter air. White flakes chilled him, and as he walked, he shivered.

A cry bellowed from beneath the clothing. Rodney rocked it gently, his pace increasing. "As if you haven't cried enough already! Oh, come on, can't you give me a break? At the very least, not reveal our position to everyone trying to kill us?"

Bright blue eyes bore into his heart. Rodney pulled the edges of the blanket closer, unwilling or unable to handle the baby's gaze. "Yes, yes, I know you're hungry, believe me, I understand hungry, but we can't stop. Not now. This would just be a lot easier if you'd stop complaining."

The screams didn't die down, and no amount of begging was going to change that.

If anyone was still following, Rodney couldn't see them, but he wasn't Ronon and he didn't trust his instincts. He couldn't take the chance that he had missed something, couldn't risk slowing down even to feed an incessant baby. Even to feed himself.

How many hours had it been since he'd first started running? Since the kid had been thrust into his arms by a weeping, injured women with hair the color of blood? Since he'd escaped without his radio or a weapon or food. How many hours until he reached the gate or passed out trying? How many miles before he could find rest?

"We've got to keep going. I hope this is the right direction. She did point this way, right? I know, I know, you're just a kid, but if I'm going the wrong way it is in your best interest to let me know."

His legs were lead, his arms weak. His shoulders seared with pain. He kept his concentration on moving and talking, trying not to think about the running nose he couldn't wipe, or the unbearable complaints from his stomach. At least the child had stilled, her voice lost to the breeze. Miles to go and they were forever from civilization. The trees towered above him, rising into the night sky. He fancied the trees were protecting him, not looming over him, not foreboding.

There was a loveliness to the forest that Rodney was well acquainted with. As a child, he used to hide among the pine and oak, curling in the mud under the branches' cover. That was before he'd become a hypochondriac…before his mom had died, swallowed by the deep forest.

Rodney held the child closer to his chest. She was an orphan now, and for once the Wraith weren't to blame. Principalities, war, hate…Rodney shuddered. He could still feel the cold cement. He could remember the nails that dug into his shoulder as he was thrust behind bars. No one listened when he asked about his team, and though weeks had gone by, Rodney had never ceased asking. It was on the fifth week that the bombs fell, the world shook, and he found himself free.

…

Worn and hungry, Rodney raced from his cell. Among the starving and restless, the cries of other escapees, and the howls of the recaptured, it was impossible to breathe. He never stopped to try, forcing himself forward despite the pain in his calves and the sirens in his ears.

A cold hand grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him beyond a door. Rodney whirled around, his gaze falling onto a delicate woman who was little more than bones.

"Please, you will be safe here a moment. Stay with me."

Her name was Adriana and her green eyes were soft, as though the light within them would disappear at a moment's notice. She smiled kindly and made him tea.

"They separated me from my team," he explained, "grabbing me in the middle of the night. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you? Or what about my team. Tall fellow with crazy hair. Bigger fellow that likes to look menacing or—"

"I wish I had an answer for you." She did not raise her cup to broken lips, but instead cradled her legs against her chest. Her breaths came slow.

Adriana sheltered him for an hour, offering him the last of her meal. Her skin was lighter than the snow, her eyes blue but glossy. She rocked the little one in her arms. "At least I have lived to see you free," she told the child.

The coughing fit seized her body. Rodney raced to her, encouraging her to continue the fight against whatever plagued her, but in the end, he knew there was no hope. And he could see she knew it, too.

"Please," she begged, "please, just save her. I cannot travel any further, but you, you are not from here. You can go now, and one day, allow her to return. Allow her to bring hope to my people."

Rodney didn't understand the words at the time, but he felt carried by them. Adriana died the moment he had taken the baby from her, but it wasn't until he heard the fall of feet that Rodney began to run.

…

He stumbled against a rock, his foot sliding to the side. One arm held tight to the baby while another reached for the closest tree. He caught himself from tumbling, but still landed on the ground with a startled thump. The baby began to cry once more.

"Oh no, don't do that. You're okay. Really…I…Oh, quiet."

His ankle was throbbing, but the snow was soothing. Rodney gazed at the stars above, soaking in the world around him. It was so cold and he was so very hungry and he still had miles to go.

"I can't do this," he whispered. "I don't know why your mother thought I could. Desperation made her blind, I suppose, but I can't do this. I'm a scientist, not a babysitter and not in track and…"

It felt so good to sit down, to allow his limbs rest. Snow melted in his palm and he sipped greedily before realizing the kid was as much in need as he was. "Here, it's not much, but…" He cupped his hands together, allowing the baby to sip of the melted snow.

Man could not live on water alone, and he was already afraid of how the child would survive the cold. Hoisting himself onto his good ankle, he cautiously took another step forward only for his ankle to buckle beneath his weight.

"C'mon, McKay. You can do this. Think like Sheppard. Be like Sheppard. He could do this. You can do this."

He managed to stay upright with the next step, and thus taking the baby in his arms, continued along the path. Miles to go and he could rest. What were miles to weeks in imprisonment?

He glanced left and then right, squinting into the darkness to try and find shadows. His ears picked up no strange sounds, his eyes no sights. The wind howled and the snow buckled beneath him. The baby drew silent breaths.

"How do I always get myself into these situations? I should go back to Earth and find a nice peaceful lab with no people trying to kill me or psycho diplomats or crying babies."

After a while it became difficult to talk, rushed breaths fighting against his words. So he fell into silence, allowing the thoughts to run through his mind, blanketing him in the illusion of comfort and hope. Were there still miles ahead? He had lost track.

The baby—he really should think of a name for it—had yet to cry again, and as he watched the sun make its way above the branches and into the purple sky, he grew worried. "Hey, you, you okay? C'mon, make a sound…" He lifted the baby in his aching arms, and it began to cry again. For a moment, he was glad to hear the wails, but the euphoria quickly wore off. "Okay, I get it, you're alive. Now go back to sleep, will you?" But the child would not be silenced.

He dubbed the child Angela, if only because Adriana had seen her that way—as an angel. Rodney resisted smiling as he looked down at the kid, his steps faltering until he was forced to find shelter beneath an oak-sycamore-something-entirely-different tree-hybrid. He could barely make out Angela's sweet baby blues beyond his cloudy vision. His stomach had long since stopped complaining, but his ankle felt angry enough to quit working altogether.

"We'll just take a rest, shall we?"

He once again cradled snow in his hands. He had to restrain himself from partaking before it melted, but he paused between each serving to help Angela. Though his arms delayed obeying his command, forcing him to use all of his willpower just to lift them an inch, he moved to change Angela's cloth diaper with some wraps he had found in Adriana's home. He held his nose as far away as possible, desperately trying not to hurl from the stench.

"Oh, God, I really hate this. Can't we just be home now?" He scowled at the soiled clothing, opting to leave it in the white pasture. "Where are clean wipes when I need them? Why did I agree to bring you along again?" He had unwillingly changed his sister's diapers before, but at least that had been in sanitary conditions.

Angela kicked with her tiny legs. He imagined she was telling him to get moving again, because he needed someone to do just that.

"We should be there soon. I don't think we're being followed anymore. Or I hope not. Your mom seemed to think you were important enough that they'd follow us to the ends of this world and beyond, but I think that was just the mother in her speaking. Everyone thinks their daughter is special, as if every baby isn't the same."

Angela smiled as Rodney swept her back into the air, his heart melting all over again. "Here we go, again."

It took some tries to get back on his feet, and he feared he might never walk again. That he'd be lost to the winds and storms, never to be found, or only to be taken from this world as a chunk of ice. "Just a bit more to go. Here we go. We can do this. I so can't do this." On that last note, he stood, and cradling the baby once more, he staggered forward. Miles to go and he'd be warm. He'd be safe and babyless and in a nice hot shower, away from the frosted woods.

He saw the gate just as a shadow danced behind the foliage. Then two more shadows to his left. Rodney crouched to the ground ignoring the cries from various limbs. Instinctively he reached for his weapon, but it was not there before and so it was not there now. He gazed beyond the cracks within the trees, yearning for some sign of what he had seen. He was so close; it wouldn't be fair to lose it all now.

Rodney shifted his arm in an effort to calm his shoulder. Angela cried out and the three shadows once more took form. Rodney tried to scurry away as he watched them approach, but he couldn't. Someone was speaking, but he couldn't make out the words. His ears burned so bad against the cold. The child was so heavy, and he was moments from breaking his promise. "I will keep her safe," he had said, and though he didn't know how, he planned to do just that.

Rodney bolted forward, breaking into a fast run. Everyone knew he wasn't a distance runner or even a fast runner, but adrenaline did amazing things and he was desperate.

"Rodney!"

He whirled around, only to collapse onto the snow, breaking his fall with one arm while holding Angela steady with the other. "Colonel?" he cried. How long had he yearned to hear those voice again?

With a last glance at Angela and then at the sheltering woods, he held tight to the baby. Exhaustion threatened to overcome him, and at the sight of his team, he allowed it to consume him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Blankets of white snow caught him and he sank into a deep rest.