Chapter Text
??? Pov:
Cold.
That's the only thing I'm feeling.
Frozen in place, cursed to watch the world around me continue to move while I can't.
The biting cold slowly gnaws away at my skin and mind, taking away my sanity piece by piece. Even though I'm wrapped in a thick jacket, the hood pulled deep down and my scarf covering my face up to my nose, I can feel it creeping higher, climbing me like ivy. No wonder at those temperatures. Yet there's something peaceful about it. It doesn't bother me as much anymore after a century of living in this high mountain region. You tend to get used to the harsh weather and brutal living conditions after a while. Or you have to if you want to survive more than a day.
Speaking of surviving.. I can barely feel myself. Not a good sign if you're walking through ankle deep snow with the speed of a snail.
First, it was as if little needles poked into my fingers. Then it spread further up my arms, down my spine and ribs before numbing my legs and feet. Why does it feel kinda good? I'm drifting in and out of my body with each step. Every time I get to this point, a pine conveniently placed in my path up the mountain, the numbness sets in. I really had hoped to get further this time. Oh well..
Leaning against the old wood, my hands slowly moving over the scared bark, I watch the world around me getting swallowed by fog. There's a storm brewing somewhere further up the snow covered stones. I can hear the winds howling like feral beasts, chasing down the rough paths to reach and devour me. I should leave before it's too late but I can't bring myself to move. My eyes can't tear away from the snow around me yet my legs refuse to cooperate.
This endless snow covering everything is beautiful and hurtful at the same time. Wherever my tired eyes wander I get blinded by white nothingness. Besides this huge pine tree in the middle of this white desert, there's nothing. I could easily climb up for a better view but who guarantees I won't become a frozen icicle by the time I reach the top? If I even get that far..
My thoughts are interrupted by a shift, a flicker of movement in the corner of my vision. First I brush it aside, thinking it's just another hallucination brought by the cold and snow messing with my sight. But then a sound is heard a few feet above me. Harsh and croaking.
I look up only to spot a bird perched on one of the pine’s highest branches. Jet-black against the pale world, its feathers look almost made out of the night itself, catching what little light filters through the fog. How long has it been there? I don't recall hearing its wings flapping so it had to be sitting there for a while. Maybe it arrived with the upcoming wind, carried by its forces until it crashed here. It must have been watching me the whole time, curious about the fool who keeps wandering these mountains week after week.
The longer I stare at it, the more it feels like its eyes drill deep into my soul. Its head tilts, one sharp eye fixed on me. There’s intelligence in that gaze. Perhaps something old and wise, something that belongs to the mountain as much as the snow, the stone and the wind. Or something dangerous, mocking. The crow gives a single rough caw, a sound that cuts through the silence like a blade. It's definitely mocking me.
Suddenly, it leaps from its branch. Its wings flap majestically, sending loose snow tumbling from the pine’s branches onto me. It caws again, challenging me to spread my wings too, fly with it out into the storm with it. And for a split second my frozen mind considers it.
A fog creeps over the white wonderland towards me, slithering around my boots slowly like poisonous snakes. It seemingly pours out of the cliff, swallowing the view of the land below.
Follow the bird into the fog, a silent whisper in my mind coos, daring me to step closer to a nearby cliff. One wrong move and I could open my wings free fall. I've done it before. It's so easy to let go of your worries and jump. Maybe the fog will show me its secrets if I do.
Tempted, I take a step to the edge. The world holds its breath. Even the bird is quite as I stare into the abyss. But just as I'm about to tip over, the heavy silence gets shattered by a sound like an icicle on stone.
In the distance rings a bell, heavy and blunt. I recognize the sound instantly. It's a very unique bell which always gets rung when they call for everyone to return to the village. It's the only thing that can snap me out of the cold trance the mountains put me into whenever I step outside the safety of the wooden palisade through the massive gates. A safety measurement as I tend to get carried away and wander the terrain for hours alone. Stupid, I know, but I can't help myself. The snow calling me to just keep on walking forever is a curse I'm unable to withstand.
The crow caws aggressively at the bell, picking at the air like that would silence the ringing. Once more it sails closer to me, trying to convince me to follow it into the fog. But this time, I hesitate. It's not right. I can't leave my village behind to chase fog into the emptiness and unknown. What would the chief say if I didn't return? All those memories of peaceful evenings, drinking and listening to stories of countless battles come back to me in an instant. What am I doing, naively chasing after a bird I just met? Maybe the cold has fried my brain more than I originally thought.
"Sorry, little one. I can't." I mutter through my scarf, my voice muffled but steady. I can't leave everything behind after just building up a safe heaven for my soul to rest. And I can't leave my friends and people.
The crow clearly feels insulted at that. Suddenly it snaps at me, hacking at my face as if I offended its species. Luckily, I can put my arm up in time, making its beak only meet cold air and the fabric of my lined jacket. It claws rip into it before it retreats back again. So that's the game, huh? Act innocent until I reject joining its journey into potential death, not willing to follow mindlessly like others would have. What an asshole of a bird. As much as I love birds which have ink black feathers, this one is not on my favorite list anymore.
I halfheartedly swing my claws after its wings, missing it by a mere inch on purpose. The stupid bird finally gives up charging, now clearly offended and loudly cussing in its own noisy bird language. But this time the message was clear. I'm not changing my mind.
For a moment we stare at each other. Then the bird flies off, disappearing into the fog, swallowed whole by the swirling grey ahead of me. Gone as if it were never there at all. Only the small holes left by its beak and claws in my jacket tell the story of its existence. Guess I need to fix this before my next adventure.
With it gone, the mountain feels emptier without it. Or maybe it just feels free. Like a heavy weight lifted with its disappearance. Crows are said to be a bad omen after all. Maybe I did the right thing after all..
A strange silence follows, heavy but not quite peaceful. I think I’m alone again when another sound comes from far off, almost too faint to trust. I spy over the endless snow, trying to figure out if it's only the snow moving or if someone is actually coming.
Nothing.
Funny how the cold makes you believe in things that aren't even there. For a moment I thought I heard footsteps. Must be the wind whistling through the cliffs and trees like it’s searching for someone who might’ve forgotten they’re alive. The bell’s distant chime nudges me, pulls at me, urges me to turn back down the path. I know I should. Otherwise they might come collect me and I don't want to be a burden.
The fog curls around my boots, creeping low and lazy like a cat threading between my steps. There's a pull, like hands trying to pry me off the solid ground to drag me into its oblivion. Not going to happen..
I run my gloved hand along the bark one more time, feeling the grooves, the scars, the centuries etched into its trunk. It stands, unwavering, rooted deep while I drift from place to place like snow caught in the wind. A mere afterthought. A shadow of the person I once was. Time to move on.
Slowly, I take a step forward, away from the pine and towards where I came from. The path might be long gone with fresh snow covering everything but I know the mountains like the palm of my hands. It's not going to hold me back. Especially now with the bell leading me in the right direction.
Every step away from the fog feels freeing. The cold embraces me as I try warming my limbs back up while listening to the snow fall. It’s easier to lose yourself in this kind of quiet than people think. The white wonderland invites you to stay, to forget, to fade into its endless calm. It’s comforting in a way that should probably worry me more. If I lose myself here, I might never return to the real world.
The bell rings again, a little sharper this time as if scolding me to move on. I exhale reluctantly, my lungs burning with the cold. Feels like tiny needles were pressing into my flesh. A small reminder that I'm still alive for now.
The crow is gone. The storm is rising faster each moment I stay. And the pine… well, the pine slowly disappears behind me, the storm covering it as soon as I turn away for too long.
"Can't believe I almost fell for a bird out of everything.."
The numbness in my legs protests when I push myself further. My body feels heavy, like the mountain is trying to keep me where I was, stuck in a never ending dance with the wind and snow. Cursed to freeze still in place. But not today.
The storm of snowflakes parts just enough to hint at the trail leading down and though the cold clings to me like a second skin, there’s a familiar pull in my chest. Home is calling me with every gong of the bell. A reminder that for all the years I’ve lived up here, I’m still human enough to answer the call of warm food and company.
Or at least still human enough to keep moving. To not let the mountains take completely over just now.
Finally, I sense the village coming closer, the giant stake wall soon poking out of the storm raging around me. Someone opens the gate, letting me slip inside to safety, ready to go back into the big community pub and get a bowl of stew with the others.
And for the first time since I left the safety of my village this morning, the cold feels a little less eager to claim me.