An origins drabble. Haku centeric.
Snowfall
They were the children of snow, his mother said, in the few times he ever remembered her speaking about her family. He looked up at her, nestled in her lap, and asked 'how mama how?'
She would stare off into the dark, the quiet that came with the first snowfall, then speak of a man who was lost, a woman who was winter's death, an unlikely love, a promise, a betrayal, and a banishment. A familiar story in the snow soaked mountains of their home, but from his mother's lips a tragedy taken too close and she would always squeeze him tight afterwards, burying her face in his hair, an unspoken reassurance.
Too late, too tardy did he realize the purpose of his mother's old stories. An admonition, a presage, a warning: he did not hear and did not heed and fulfilled the tale. A promise, a betrayal and a banishment, and he is alone.