The branches have traded
Their leaves for white sleeves
All warm-blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe
Scarves are wrapped tightly like gifts under trees
Christmas lights tangle in knots annually
All families huddle closely
Betting warmth against the cold
All the bruises seem to surface
Like mud beneath the snow
- Snow, Sleeping at Last
Snow fell slowly, twirling and dancing in the air before lying down to rest.
The forest was still around him; no wind whistling through the branches; no crows singing out their mournful tune.
It is as though the world is holding its breath; as though time itself has stopped in disbelief.
A new edelwood tree stands solemnly in the snow.
Another lost soul joining the throng.
The crunch of snow broke the silence as Wirt dropped to his knees beside the tree.
"Please...please,no...Greg….Greg," he sobbed.
Heaving gasps escape him, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs, as he gazes through red-rimmed eyes at the little tree in front of him.
Tears blur his vision, spill down his cheeks.
Carving frigid furrows down his cheeks, burning like icy fire as they fall, again and again.
It should hurt but Wirt is so numb.
He can't feel anything.
Nothing about this feels real.
It couldn't be, it couldn't.
Greg couldn't be a-
Wirt viciously cut off the thought, wailing in distress.
Bursting forward he pressed his forehead against the snow. Breaths coming too fast; he couldn't seem to get enough air.
His chest hurt.
A soft nudge startled him. Raising his head, he turned, looked blearily at Greg's frog staring forlornly back at him.
He gave it a wobbly smile, scooped up the freezing amphibian with careful hands.
"Greg," he started, a sniffle interrupting his words, "come on Greg. We have to get… Jason Funderburker home."
Silence.
The only reply is his own sobs and sniffles.
Thoughts race through Wirt's head.
Greg can't be gone.
He was- is so stubborn; a constant that Wirt could count on to always be by his side. Even though before today, he would have called him a thorn.
It wasn't fair!
He had just barely come to understand the Woodsman's words. Made the promise to himself to become the brother he should have been all along.
The brother that Greg needed.
But it was too late.
Greg was gone.
Turned into an edelwood tree like so many before him.
He leaned his head onto the trunk and sobbed with abandon.
He was alone.
He had no one.
A solitary witness to the depth of his grief.
The Woodsman was gone.
Beatrice was gone, again.
Even the beast was gone.
He was alone, alone, alone.
He was-
He was lost.
He didn't know how to get home; he'd thought he'd known but now…
Doubt consumed him.
He huddled in on himself, hugging Jason Funderburker close to him, and in the comfort of the dark, he let himself cry.
When the sun came up hours later, the boy was still there.
Sleeping against the trunk, still and silent, a branch tangled tenderly in his hair.