Each flake seems to descend gently, yet forlornly upon his lonely figure. He walked, and walked, trudging through the snow, meandering across the bleak white fields of cold, hard sleet.
He falls, then picks himself up, and he falls again. With each fall a new bruise appears on his legs, his hands, his face. He looks at the sleet as it reflects the distorted image back, each injury mocking him, laughing at him, reminders the hopes he once had, hopes he once placed. Hopes found, then lost. Then there were hopes that were never ever discovered, little lies, however, unintended, formed through the careless words of folk who knew little of its consequences, some of whom genuinely believed it would have helped. Even as he moves towards the hills, their silhouettes barely visible against the harsh winds reprimanding him for his follies, he could almost feel the warmth, then it fades away teasingly, like a fleeting mirage that he thought was real, but never did materialise.
And then they were suddenly upon him. Dark, hooded figures, cloaked in black. Standing atop the hills with two to one. They stood there, motionless, as though they themselves were nothing more than figments of his imagination and they too, shall pass and fade back into the shadows.
But they endured. Endured the biting gales and the lashings of his stinging pragmatism.
He had found Them.
It should have been a feeling of triumph, but somehow he could feel nothing but emptiness and a resigned acceptance. He was the reluctant hero-No, that would not be appropriate to describe him at all. Traveler, or a Adventurer might sound a little more apt.
Then voices rang out in his mind. Called out to him, reminding him of the warmth they had emitted, reminding him of the promises they held, the hope they gave him. Then a steely cold one reminded him of the failings in believing, in hoping, in thinking that things will always become better. That things are going to happen soon enough. That after so many years, the people would finally start noticing him more and befriend him, get to know him in a deeper manner in spite of the aura he emits, the actions he does, the lousy jokes he cracked.
He struggles. Roars. Screams. Then whimpers as he took the first step towards Them. He knew...He knew that They were like him, and he was only a few steps away from becoming part of Them.
But behind him, the winds seem to die down and the snow starts to thaw. One feet in each realm. One mind with two intentions.
It was going to be another long, hard battle.
And he was once again, alone.
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