One drop, the darkest scarlet, frozen at her fingers tip.
Though time had marked it's presence through the rest of the world, here time had no meaning.
Softly sleeping, the princess lay, dark lashes covering once brilliant eyes.
Blue dress in folds against the snow white covers.
And all encased in thorns of protection, embracing without touch.
The prince's fine garments were slashed and torn as his sword made short work of the vines. He would free her. He must free her.