Crimson snow:

The ground was blotted with crimson. Even the newly fallen snow could not hide the dark red seal of death that now presided over the resting place of so many.

The remains of his opponents lay scattered across the battlefield that had once been a village, drenched in their own sweat and blood, their unseeing, glazed eyes staring heavenwards towards the snow; their mouths open in their silent pleads and screams for mercy. For life.

As if he, the 'youkai' warrior of the western hills would allow such lowly despicable men survive the winter- let alone a day anywhere in his territory. Especially not here.

They were far beneath him. Worthless, foolish, weak. Their deaths were less than honorable and he would see to it that their cowardice and contemptible actions were well known. Their last moments, writhing in agony at his feet as he hastened past, his blade soaked in the blood that displayed his victory for all to see, the untainted silver flashing like a star from overhead. Beautiful to look at, but deadly to the touch. That was the trait he shared with his favored weapon.

The forces had been crushed with such ease, this section of the opposing army destroyed like broken pottery. The fight had been of ease –yet the flames and blood had created such an atmosphere of danger.

To say he enjoyed his job was an exaggeration. Yet, he didn't dislike his duties either. Being a ronin samurai was of his own choosing, and he would continue this way of life until he grew tired of the travel. Thus was the way he worked.

His tied back hair spiraled behind him in a wave of silver moonlight, as the biting cold north wind swept through the desolate clearing, and he strode through the village destroyed by his opponents, his two katana's clacking quietly together at his waist, and his armor splattered with his enemies' blood, gave off a dull glow in the light of the moon.

Through the hazy mists that were gradually descending from the hills, he made his way towards the decrepit, fallen buildings, his sandals squelching through the mud, snow, and blood soaked earth as he drew nearer to the desolation.

It was then that his sharp eyes spotter her, skin pale, delicate limbs trapped beneath the destruction, long raven's hair tangled and wild, her long lashes brushing against her ashen cheeks as she lay sprawled like a broken doll among the splinter of wood and pool of her own crimson red blood.

He looked down on her silently, his eyes like two frozen pieces of amber, bright and sharp in the darkness of the dead site.

"Fragile." He commented to the wind, his voice a low, soft instrument. "Weak."

He moved the debris that pinned her to the remains of the building, before settling down onto the ground beside her still form.

The snow fell about them gently, creating an almost lulling sense of security on the battlefield full of the bodies of the dead. Contemplating her serene expression, he brushed her bangs out of her closed eyes, his finger brushing over her dirt and tear stained cheeks before glancing out upon the dead with cold, unfeeling eyes.

There was a soft cough from beside him, and a small hand tugged at his sleeve, making him turn to meet a tired pair of dark, trusting eyes.

"You were saying, youkai-sama?" she asked hoarsely, a small smile ghosting over her lips, as she struggled to sit upright, het teeth clenched, and jaw set in determination.

Their eyes met again, and her smile brightened, as she reached up and tugged at his hair, earning a cold look as his silver locks were pulled from the hold of a torn piece of cloth, and they were blown onto his shoulders.

"It's snowing, Sesshomaru-sama." She murmured quietly, leaning against him for support, her fingers entangled in his long hair.

"So it is, Rin."

The flakes were coming down thicker now, yet as delicately as ever, as if in an attempt to wipe the clearing away. To start over.

They sat together quietly, watching as the snow blended with the scarlet of the old life, becoming tainted, yet new.

"Where to, Sesshomaru-sama?" She questioned wonderingly, as she glanced curiously into his usual expressionless expression.

New beginnings.

He turned to her caught her hand in his, meeting her gaze evenly.

"Where indeed." He stated coolly as he leaned forwards meeting her warm, crimson lips calmly.

The snow settled down upon the valley, covering the tracks, and the bloody past. An ending?

No.

A tainted beginning.