It was one of the coldest nights of the year. Wind blew around the stone-floored square and picked up loose flakes of snow. Children of all sorts of ages sat in groups, huddled together in their dark cloaks. They were waiting for the great bell to ring. Some of the younger kids complained to the older ones about the cold as the leaders of each group calmly waited for the large wooden Door to open. Small warm lights decorated the top of the village wall. Small house sat row by row on streets leading away from the square. Past these streets were large buildings. Each building had its own use like the mess hall and the school.
One boy who sat closest to the Door of his group looked around in anticipation. His dirty blonde hair covered his eyes and ears. He could still remember this day two years ago when he first saw the square. He remembered the tall figures draped in black robes carry him through the Door. The very same door would open when the bell rang. He did not remember anything before that, but he understood that this small village was his home until he got older. He knew that one day he would have to leave through those doors the same way he came in. He was only five, but he was one of the most powerful of his age. The young boy moved his hair out his eyes. The group leader had brought him to their house because of his strength. If he had not been so powerful and strong a year ago… the boy shuddered at the thought. The bell in the tower above the Door began to ring. A hush came over the crowed. Eleven more rings, not one child in the square knew how many more children would come through the Door this year. The same amount of people knew how many would soon be taken join each group and who knew how many children would not. The blond boy was one of the luckier ones. He looked around as the bell rang on. The older kids looked up expectantly, including his group leader. Even the children who had only been here a year ago understood what would happen soon. Stories were told ever since they came of how when they got here. The bell rang again. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at the door. The bell rang again and the doors opened.
Around fifty kids began shuffling in wrapped in bundles of clothing. They were dirty and scared. The leaders of each group got up and walked towards the gathered children, looked at the new children, and began taking the hand of a few. They would bring back the children and walk out again and fewer children began standing around. One child tried to ran back to the doors, but the solid oak closed right before the kid slammed into it. The child fell and was forgotten. Five children looked around. Not understanding what was happening or why, no one knew the why. A girl with black hair that ran to her shoulders hugged herself. She began to cry and walk towards a few groups. Sadly, the leaders had to push her away. The girl sat down and bawled. The wind picked up and the groups began to lead their new member homes. All but the five children left the square.
No one knew how long the smaller children would be there until they were no more. No one liked to think about it, but one did. The blond boy looked at his leader, and then looked to the girl. He did not understand why they must leave the other children behind. The boy himself remembered the loneliness and the wonder of the place when he came here for the first time. He remembered the cold too. He ran to the black hair girl and took her hand. The girl surprised, stopped crying. Her light brown, almost golden, eyes looked into his dark blue ones. The boy turned around and began to walk back as he pulled her with him. She tried to resist and scream but she was too cold and tired. The wind and ice seeped through her clothes and fatigue soon took her. She passed out in the middle of the square. The boy picked her up and walked home in the swirling wind as it began to snow.