PROLOGUE
The Chill Winds of Fate
The moon had just risen above the snow-covered treetops when the woman entered the village. Her steps seemed staggered and tired, as if she had been walking for days without stopping. In truth, it had been much longer. She knew if she stopped, they'd find her, and she wasn't about to give in to her exhaustion. Not now.
She wore a hooded light blue robe that was simple in both design and purpose, with a white belt around her waste and the clasp a small golden sun. She wore deerskin boots, but they were worn from travel, and in desperate need of repair. The gloves she wore were torn and missing most of their fingers. It was hardly enough to fight back the cold of winter, but her fear and sheer determination were all the warmth she needed. She was small, almost fragile in appearance, but that belied her speed and capabilities. When the need arose, her strength at times surprised even herself.
As she walked through the gates, she looked about her, hoping to find a guard or evening passerby. The icy flagstone streets, unfortunately, were mostly silent and dark. The only illumination came filtered out through frosted windows of the homes that lined the path she took, and the only sound she heard came from a pub at the end of the lane. She decided this would be her best chance to find what she spent weeks looking for.
The Iron Flask was a well kept establishment, all things considered. The door was stained a deep brown, the windows were mostly clean of filth and smears, and there were only a handful of barrels full of debris set about the front and side of the building. The walls were a deep tan color, similar to the men that worked the docks back home. Even the sign looked professional, with the lettering engraved and filled in with a golden yellow.
A raucous sound of laughter and drunken, off-key singing came pouring out as she opened the door, and a wintry draft slipped through, causing the many candles and lamps adorning the walls to dim and flicker. This forced several people to stop and see who was intruding upon their evening revelry. The few that didn't notice were jostled and elbowed by the other patrons, scowls contorting their faces.
She held her breath for a moment, too scared to make any other movement. Of course, she knew deep down that there was no need to fear these people. They had nothing to do with the danger that nipped at her heels. Still, she stood there, motionless for what felt like minutes.
Finally, the silence was broken. "You seem to be a wee bit lost, miss. Do you need some help?" the barkeeper asked, concern instantly washing over his face. He wore a brown vest over a beige tunic, the sleeves rolled back above his elbows. He had a sort of pudgy, rounded face, and the trend continued down the rest of him. There was a hint of sincerity to him that was both refreshing and surprising. "Perhaps you should come in out of the cold for a drink? I have water or tea for you and the babe, if you'd like."
She looked down at the bundle she carried. Her son had been so quiet since their journey started, she had nearly forgotten she carried him clutched so tightly to her. She glanced down quickly . Two inquisitive little blue-gray eyes looked back at her, almost reassuring her that all was fine within his swaddled confines.
"No, no, that's quite alright," she said, still looking down at her son. Without thinking, she began to move further into the room before catching herself. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just looking for someone. A Lady Mirith...I was told she lived here in town."
The barkeep scratched his head a moment, furrowed brow and wrinkled nose hard at work. "I'm sorry, miss, but I don't know of any Lady Mirith. We haven't got any Lords or Ladies here, as we're just a town of hunters and traders," he said in a defeated tone.
There was another moment of silence. Suddenly, a man at the back of the room slammed his fist on a table, causing every head in the pub to spin around. "Geoff, you fool! The young lady is looking for Tabitha! Honestly, how does a barkeep such as yourself not know one of his biggest customers?" an old, tall, wiry man spat in earnest. Turning his attention to the woman standing at the door, he said "Milady, Miss Tabitha is only a few streets over." He pointed to the far wall of the room."You'll know her place as soon as you see it. It's quite...unique." He gave a slight bow, and sat back down with his mug already raised for another swig.
Hurriedly, she thanked the elderly man and portly barkeeper for their help, and was back on the road heading in the direction she was pointed. She peered through the blanket of darkness and snow covering the streets, with many people turned in for the night and lights extinguished. Occasionally, she'd stop and listen to the sounds of the night, holding her breath and preparing for the worst, but it never came. No crunch of snow under footfall, a rustle of leaves, or even the heavy breathing. Nothing but complete, utter silence. Even the air was still.
She eventually came to a house at the end of a row that could only be described as odd. It was a two-story, disproportionate mess, with the second floor much larger than the first. It was supported by large wooden beams, and one room appeared to just hang without any form of support at all, and was a bit smaller than the rest of the floor. She could just make out hints of yellow and red paint, and the chimney was crooked and out of place. If only the rest of the building was some semblance of normal. A single light shone through a window upstairs, but all else was as dark and still as the street itself.
With a deep sigh, she stole herself up the steps to the strange home, and rapped at the door with a nervous hand. A few moments later, shuffling footsteps could be heard from within, and a light could be seen bobbing through the darkness on the other side. The lock of the door clicked as the knob began to turn, almost deafening in the unsettling silence. As the door swung inward, an older woman stood there in a light yellow night gown and white stockings. She wore her cedar brown hair in a bun, and pushed a pair of glasses slightly up the bridge of her nose to adjust them. She was a women that was definitely in her older years, but not elderly; she still had some life and youth left in her. Squinting to see the woman on her front stoop, she cocked her head to the side just a little and asked, "Yes, and who are you, my dear?"
"M-My name is K-Krystara, milady, and I've traveled a-a long distance to f-find you. I was told you c-could help." She spoke through gritted, chattering teeth, but that wasn't entirely due to the cold. The girl felt a dam inside her about to burst, but she fought with every bone to hold it back. She wasn't about to show any sign of weakness.
"I'm sorry, dear, but please come back in the morning. I am already turned in, and I'd much rather receive company in a proper manner," Tabitha said with an annoyed tone in her voice, turning back inside and slowly closing the door.
Krystara panicked, and quickly thrust herself into the doorway to stop it from shutting. "P-Please! You have t-to help! You're t-the only one left that c-can! They're g-going to find us if you d-don't." She felt the tears welling up and escaping before she could blink them back, creating streaks on her face in the dirt and grime of her long journey. "Y-You have n-no idea what we've g-gone through to get here."
Tabitha Mirith, a woman that had worked hard to get to where she was, a woman that did everything should could for those in dire need, remembered in that moment just why she did what she did. She was once in a similar position, she reminded herself, and no matter what always assisted those who asked for it. With a heavy sigh, a quick glance up and down the row of houses, and a nod, she motioned for the strange girl to bring her child in from the cold dead of night. Safe, at least for the time being, from the nightmares that followed.
"Here you are, dear," Tabitha said with a smile, handing Krystara a small cup of tea, steam still drifting up from the contents. "It's chamomile, one of my favorites. I hope it's warm enough for you." Grabbing a chair opposite of Krystara, she sat down and tossed a log into the fire she had lit for the girl and her child.
"Yes, thank you," was all Krystara was able to utter before gulping the tea down in a single motion.
Tabitha blinked, her heart nearly broken by the sight of the pair. It was clear they were exhausted and starved, but she had no idea just how badly off they were. She was still angry with herself for trying to turn them away before.
"Tell me, child, from where have you come just to see me? You made it quite clear that you went through a lot of trouble to find me," she inquired.
Krystara hesitated a moment. "We've come from across the ocean, to the west."
Dissatisfied with the answer, Tabitha pursed her lips, but nodded in defeated approval.
"You must forgive me for being so to the point, but who exactly are you running from?" Tabitha sipped at her tea, more interested in the girl's tale than her drink. Surely, she thought, they must be quite dangerous for her to come to me at such an hour.
Krystara held the empty cup in her lap, staring down for a few moments at her son before returning her gaze to her savior. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to the older woman, tears once again welling up in her eyes.
In the firelight, Tabitha could see the girl much more clearly. Her skin was tanned as if bronzed by the sun, her hair dark like pitch, but her eyes truly stood out. They were a deep green, like emeralds, and had a mix of fear and power behind them. Perhaps it was simply the girls willpower and determination to keep her and her child safe, but Tabitha knew this girl was incredibly strong deep down. Her face was slender and beautiful, if not for the filth from her weeks, or possibly even months, of meager survival. Tabitha could see that this girl had been through far worse than she let on.
Strong though she may be, Krystara was nearly at her breaking point. She managed to hold back the floodgates just a bit more, just long enough to tell this woman her tale. "Most would call them nightmares, if there was a word at all for them. They were sent after us by the man responsible for my husbands death."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, dear. These men you say are after you, who exactly are they?" Tabitha squinted just a little to look down at her cup.
"They're not men. They're monsters. Wicked fangs and piercing eyes that cut through you like cloth." She fought back more tears, and did her best to keep her voice from breaking.
It wasn't uncommon for victims of violence to associate their attackers with wild beasts. Over the years, she had heard all manner of colloquialisms, most not at all befit of a lady. But in the heat of the moment, when emotions ran high, many tossed manners and proper behavior to the wind.
This, at least, was true of the women she had helped. She helped men just as much, but most only came to her for advice, which she offered freely. Not that she ever charged for her services, that just wouldn't be proper, but she was often considered quite sagely. Typically, however, mostly women came to her for refuge and protection.
"Well, these vile beasts, what exactly do they want with you and your child? Have you or your husband done something to warrant such radical behavior?" She raised a questioning brow at her guest.
"My husband and I took them in and sheltered them, fed them, and tended their wounded. We knew that they were soldiers, but we had no idea who they truly were until it was too late." Krystara stared into the fire, her eyes matching the intensity of the blaze in the hearth. "As to why they are after my son and myself, I cannot say. They are savages, if not men, but what they have set upon us is most certainly not human."
Tabitha considered this a moment, deciding best how to help the girl. Taking another sip of her tea, she contemplated enforcing her usual methods, but they might not have been enough in this instance.
Just then, the sound of breaking glass could be heard above them. The women started, but sat and listened a moment. Krystara picked up her son and held her breath, a habit that she adopted quickly out of necessity.
In a single motion, the elder woman leapt from her chair, sped across the room to a closet on the other side, and grabbed something from within. Krystara immediately recognized it to be a sword. She quickly rose from her seat as Tabitha motioned for her to stand behind her.
Upstairs was silent for a moment, then another shattering sound of glass and debris could be heard, this time from a separate room. Seconds later, there was the sound of shuffling at the top of the stairs. Then another sound, this time clearly a window breaking, came from the kitchen followed by shouting. Tabitha couldn't understand a word of it, but she could only assume they were giving orders to search the house for the girl.
Suddenly, the kitchen door burst open, and several men poured through the opening. Swords in hand, the men had a lust for blood in their eyes, and two of them rushed the women. Tabitha moved to greet them, proving to be much more agile than her age let on, and ducked beneath a swinging blade as she spun on a pivot and returned the favor in kind. The man fell, screaming, as his partner stepped over him and thrust forward with his sword. Stepping to the side, she was able to parry the attack with an upward stroke, causing another victim falling to her blade.
More crashing could be heard from the various rooms of the house, and several more men ran down the stairs to join their comrades as Tabitha stepped to meet them. A quick flash of steel, a couple more cries of pain, and she yelled over her shoulders. "Go! Take your child and run! I will find you soon!"
The young mother took no time in obeying, and ran through the now open doorway leading to the front stoop of the house. On the street, she could see several figures running towards her from down the snowy lane, and turned to run in the opposite direction. As she ran, she saw several buildings on fire, including the pub where the kindly old man and friendly barkeeper had helped her find Miss Tabitha's home. A pang of agony and regret filled her heart, as she never wanted harm to come to anyone that helped her.
She eventually made it to the edge of town, near a river on the southern side. The icy, black waters were strong here, crashing on rocks and rushing into the distance as she looked for a means to cross. She could hear the men shouting just a short distance behind her, as she had managed to outrun them. Spending so much time running for her life and that of her son had proved to be incredible for her stamina and speed, and both were vital if they were going to make it through this nightmare alive.
Moments later, she spied Tabitha running up the snowbank to meet with her, somehow following her trail in the snow. The older woman had somehow managed to survive the attack, and made good on her promise to find them.
Heaving from the exhausting melee, Tabitha leaned over a moment and rested her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "Phew! I haven't had to fight like that in years, but I gave them a piece of my mind. We should get going, though, as they are likely to find you if I was able to." She righted herself, stretched her back a little, and lead the two to a wooden bridge that crossed into the forest on the opposite side of the river heading east.
It was quite some time before they stopped, their footsteps in the snow deadened by the surrounding trees. Their breathing was heavy in the air, and sweat beaded down their faces in a deluge of fright. Somehow, Krystara's infant son still managed to keep calm and quiet during their flight from town.
"I think...we're safe...for...the time being," Tabitha said through strained breathing. She felt herself nearly keel over, her lungs burning from the freezing air.
Krystara allowed her exhaustion to take over and fell to her knees. She spent a few moments checking the blanketed infant in her arms, and felt the tears once again fight their way out. There was no holding back now, and the tears broke through the dam and flooded her vision. Making every attempt to breathe, she could only manage to speak between broken sobs. "I-I'm sorry...S-so s-s-sorry! I n-never meant for t-this to happen!"
"No, dear girl! None of this is your fault!" Tabitha knelt down beside her and placed her arm around the broken mother. "Whatever those men are after, it's not because of something you did."
"You don't understand! My husband killed their commander! The man was a murderer, and my husband caught him in the act! He said he was looking for my son when he was caught, but it was someone else's baby! He had no regret or remorse for what he did!" Krystara was nearly in hysterics at this point, and now anger had taken over where fear once was.
"Dear heavens, who could do such a thing?" She spat in disgust. "But more importantly, why your child? What could they possibly want with him?"
"I don't know, and my husband wouldn't hear of it. He had the man executed, and the others were to be sentenced with him, but they escaped. The next day, they sneaked back in and killed my love in his sleep." She looked down at her child once more. A smile crept across her lips, but it was clearly full of sorrow. "I miss him dearly."
Tabitha was at a loss for words. She had seen some horrid things in her time, but the wanton murder of infants was something else entirely. Nothing in her line of work was ever easy to deal with, this least of all. One could count on one hand the number of cases she had seen something so barbaric in her career.
The moon was much higher in the sky before they decided to continue onward. Tabitha knew of a cabin only an hour from where they were, provided the men from town hadn't been able to follow. They had left a trail in the snow that any woodsman or hunter could track, and these men had been able to find the girl and child easily enough. If they could find her home, they could find them in the woods just as well.
Their pace was much slower now, both in part due to the cold and their energy drained, but they pressed on all the same. Ahead of them was a clearing, just down a small decline into a dell that had muddied snow and several groves of oak and birch trees. Here, the crunch of frozen mud and small puddles could be heard beneath their feet. Tabitha stepped too heavily onto one such puddle and the surface broke, soaking through her boots. She cursed under her breath. "At least I had time to change before my house was invaded and burned to the ground," she said wryly.
A fog had begun rolling in when they entered the clearing, adding an eerie tone to the already foreboding winter scene. At one point, where the snow stopped and the fog began had blurred, and Krystara could see tiny ice crystals forming right before her eyes. "What is this nonsense?" she asked, bemused by this foreign sight.
"Freezing fog, dear. It happens sometimes, when the temperature is low enough. It isn't common, but it's quite interesting to watch." Tabitha nodded approvingly to herself, as if proud she had knowledge of such an event.
In the distance, they heard shouting once more, but the direction seemed swallowed by the fog's embrace. Wherever the men were, they had little chance of discerning the location through sound alone, and there was zero visibility to assist. The women knew that if they didn't pick up the pace, their pursuers would be right on top of them in no time.
Fear-stricken once more, they decided to lie in wait in a nearby copse and hope for the best. With such thick fog, they were certain that they could hide as long as needed, knowing that it would be impossible to find Tabitha's cabin. Thus they made their way into a thicket of dead ferns and tall oak, knelt down, and listened.
The shouting was getting nearer, becoming almost distinct now. It was still difficult to tell where it came from, but Tabitha was almost certain it came from the south and the west, from which they themselves had made their escape. It took her several minutes to recognize where she and her companions were. The cabin itself wasn't much further.
The baby boy began to fuss, and the two women started. Krystara began cooing and bouncing the child in an attempt to calm him down, but was met with little success. "Shh, sweet child, shh...We're almost safe, just a bit longer," she said, her throat now raw from the midnight frost. "Please, mama needs you to be quiet for just a little more, please." The child barely responded.
As the shouts grew louder, the child fussed more, when suddenly the shouting stopped. The air hung thicker still, the only sound being that of a freezing babe in the arms of a desperate mother.
She continued to try and silence the child, but to no avail. Tabitha, now beginning to panic herself, offered to take the child a moment so the mother could rest. As if by some form of miracle, the child calmed and stopped. Tabitha assumed it was likely because she was a stranger and had an unknown scent. A child always knew it's mother by smell, no matter if man or beast. Of this, she was certain.
Krystara mouthed her gratitude as she caught a glimmer of movement from the corner of her peripheral view. Her head spun quickly, but nothing was there. Then again, and yet again more movement just on the edge of her vision. She felt the cold and fear wash over her like the waves against a craggy shore, and she tugged at Tabitha's sleeve and pointed where she was sure she saw something.
Tabitha slowly handed the child back to his mother, now asleep in his cocoon. As soon as her hand was free, she placed it on the pommel of her sword, undoing the hasp on the sheath. She too began to see movement, not from the sides, but directly in front of them. This is when she noticed the fog had begun to lift just a little, if only enough to allow her to see the horror they were about to face.
The men had reached the clearing.
They had begun burning the copses littering the dell, and were about to move onto theirs. Thank the heavens the child didn't give us away, she thought to herself. She raised herself up just enough to stand on the balls of her feet but still remain hunched down behind the bushes, and motioned for Krystara to do the same. "I know where we are now," she whispered. "Over the rise and about half a mile further. On my signal, we move."
Without hesitation, she moved to the far edge of the covert, checked for any obstacles that might meet them, and waved Krystara to follow. Still squatting over, they dashed for the incline on the east embankment. They were nearly there when the shouts began anew, and they threw caution to the wind and broke out in a dead run.
They could hear their pursuers do the same, with some yelling for others to follow, or at least that's what Tabitha presumed. She couldn't understand the dialect they spoke, and she wasn't sure she cared to. All she knew was that if they didn't make it to the cabin, they were done for.
They reached the crest of the hill quickly enough, and as they began running again, Tabitha looked over her should at Krystara. "If...something...happens...to me...keep...heading...straight...to...reach...the cabin!" she shouted between gasps of air. Her chest felt as if it could shatter from the cold.
They ran for a bit, when suddenly, Tabitha stopped. Krystara nearly slid and fell on the snow trying to emulate her. "What are you doing!? Why did you stop!?" she shrieked at her companion.
Tabitha nodded as if to direct Krystara's attention. Ahead of them they could see flames licking at the night sky, burning away the fog.
"That's the cabin," Tabitha said solemnly.
Krystara shook her head. "No. No, no no no no!" she cried. She fell to her knees and began to weep.
Tabitha looked around. The men hadn't arrived just yet, but would any moment after the noise they had made. As she continued her search, she spied a hollow at the base of a nearby oak. Then, an idea came to her.
"Quickly, give me the child!" she commanded, and the mother obeyed without question. She had seen the tree as well, and knew what the older woman was thinking.
Tabitha dashed to the tree, took a quick glance inside, and placed the bundle just out of sight. Straightening herself, she peered around for something of similar size, and found a small log of roughly the same length and girth. Even the weight was right. Removing her shawl, she wrapped the piece of wood as if swaddling her own child, and ran back to Krystara and handed it to her.
"They'll be here in a moment, and we're out of options. There is a highway nearby, but we won't make it in time. Not with them so close. But should something happen, there is still a chance someone will hear him when he wakes up, provided he survives the night. Dawn is only a few hours away, and if the heavens are willing, he'll make it." Tabitha looked back at the hill, then back to the burning cabin in the distance, and sighed. "Now then, do exactly as I say and the odds of your son living will drastically improve," she said in hushed tones, then leaned in and began whispering into Krystara's ear.
The men weren't far off. When they reached the women, they slowed to a standstill just a few feet away. Torches and weapons in hand, they stood there and taunted the women in their foreign tongue, when one of them stepped forward. Tabitha concluded that this must be their leader.
She stared the man down a moment, taking in his large physique. He was taller than her by a head with broad, relaxed shoulders, and hands that were rough and filthy. He had scars across his unwashed face, and his maple brown hair was unkempt and greasy from lack of hygiene. His eyes were black, and had a certain sense to them that they had seen and done horrific things. He wore a long brown coat with a filthy white blouse beneath, and his dark brown pants were tucked into the tops of his fur boots. He had a large knife sheathed at his side.
"Ah' b'lieve yeh've got sumthin' we want, girlie," he said, his accent thick and broken. Tabitha could just barely make out what was said.
"Please, let us go! We've done nothing to you!" Krystara cried, tears once more streaming down her cheeks.
"Sorreh, love, bu' tha' isn' an opshun," he spat, as if disgusted with the discourse. "Now, han' ov'r the babe or we'll kill the lot o' yeh."
She slowly backed away a few steps, one hand on the bundle and the other on Tabitha's sleeve. The older woman made a move to ready her blade, but the man stopped her.
"Tha' isn' a gud idea, lassie. Do it, an' yeh'll be cut to ribb'ns." A malicious smile flashed for just a moment across his face, but was gone as quickly as it came. He then turned his attention back to the weeping mother. "Giv 'im to meh, or yeh'll die wit' 'im."
Tabitha drew in a deep breath, stepped forward, and drew her sword. "I'll give you lot one chance to put away those nasty weapons, turn around, and leave this valley. Otherwise, I will turn you into food for the wolves."
Of course, she was bluffing. She had no stamina, no life left in her to fight. She knew she could take a few, there was no question about that. But this man seemed different, and there were far too many others, even for her. The cold of steel and leather bit into her frostbitten hands, but she didn't care. Whatever she did, she had to ensure that the child, and hopefully his mother, could escape. It was her sworn duty, her life mission. It's why she didn't turn them away when they came to her for help, why she invited them into her home, and why she stood there now between her charge and their assailants.
The man smirked, readied his weapon, and began to step by Tabitha without even looking at her. She spun on her heels, swinging her sword in an upward fashion, knocking his away from Krystara just before he was able to cut her. He glared at her and growled, but was able to recover his own blade and bring it back around towards Tabitha's head. She ducked, then righted herself and took a step back to re-position her feet. She barely had time to ready herself before he was on top of her, swinging in a wide arc to the side.
The exchange of blows continued as snow began to fall. The fresh flakes powdered their faces and melted, impairing Tabitha's vision as a large fist belted her in the side of the head, knocking her glasses to the ground. Everything became a blurry mess, and she had trouble making out her opponent. She could hear the slicing of his weapon through the air, though, and was able to guess just about where it would strike. She parried the attack, but was unable to prevent the knee that slammed into her stomach, knocking the wind from her. She fell to the ground, gasping.
She looked to Krystara and told her to run just before the man's blade found it's mark between her shoulders. She gasped again, this time in agony and searched for her sword, but the man stepped on her hand, crushing it beneath his weight. Moments later, she lay still in the freshly fallen snow. Krystara had a look of horror on her face, and made an attempt to run.
The man spent no time in an attempt to stop her. Before she had made it more than a few feet, he was already on her, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around to face him. Her eyes grew wide with fear as he drew her closer, wrenching the bundle from her arms. Terrified, she stood there, motionless, snow and tears mixing upon her icy blue cheeks. She had forgotten how cold it was since the encounter began.
The man quickly threw back the wrappings of the child, when he suddenly stopped. He just stood there and stared at the bundle in his hands, then slowly looked up at Krystara, a look of pure rage contorting his face.
"Where is he!? Where's the boy, wench!?" he roared, tossing the log to the ground. It made a muffled thud as it hit a rock hidden beneath the surface of the wintry blanket.
"Somewhere you'll never find him," she said to herself just beneath her breath.
He roared into the air, and the others were becoming visibly restless, weapons clanging together in intimidation. He grabbed Krystara by the wrist, drew her close once more, and she suddenly felt sharp pain in her belly. Looking down, the man had grabbed the knife from his side and placed it firmly inside her stomach, the cold steel biting deep.
He ripped it out a moment later, and spat at her. Krystara fell to the ground, holding her wound, but was too exhausted to fight the pain. She couldn't even feel it anymore, the cold already working it's way through the gash into her insides. She knew her time was done.
As she laid there in the snow, the men began to disappear from view. She thought a moment to herself of how she let her child down, how she missed her husband's warm, loving embrace, how she'd never get to see the ocean again, or feel the sand between her toes. There were too many things she never got to see, or smell, or taste. But most importantly of all, she wouldn't be there to do any of it with her son.
Malek, my son. My dear, sweet baby boy.
Her thoughts began to drift away, the fog now gone and the stars in the sky drawing closer. Her breathing became raspy and infrequent, and she could feel her heart slow to a crawl. No more tears fell from her eyes. No more fear to cause her to run. Warmth soon began to take over, like a comforting blanket on a soft bed, and then, all was still and silent.
He watched from a distance, hidden among the trees. He had waited for sometime before leaving his refuge, and crept through the snow to a tree with a large hollow at it's base. Reaching inside, he slowly withdrew a large bundle wrapped in wool. As he drew it close, he began to unwrap it just to make sure it was there. A grin crept across his face.
A little baby boy, still so young and full of life, looked up at him with two little blue-gray eyes.
"Worry not, my child, for you...you are destined for great things," he whispered.
Nodding his approval, he replaced the child's swaddle, glanced about for just a moment, and pulled his hood back over to conceal himself. He then set off into the freezing shadows of the night.
On that night, half a world away in the kingdom of Arendelle , a baby girl with platinum hair, aquamarine eyes, and with just a slightly icy touch, was born into the world.