S.A.D.

Rose stood on a rise, overlooking the spread of blank ground in front of him. It was dark and murky out, but the moon in the overcast sky glinted brightly enough for one to be able to navigate the dark and fog. A few moments ago, the sky had ceased its seemingly endless torrent of snow. Now, everything was hidden behind a thick coat of white. The chill breeze sweeping across the area ensured the flakes were swept into every possible nook and cranny. Where most would find the sparkling snow enchanting, Rose only felt...sort of empty. It was his first winter and to say he wasn't enjoying it was an understatement. He felt as if he was watching all the life being sucked from the world. And he was supposed to somehow be happy and cheerful like the others, who were safely tucked away in the Hearth Hall where the population traveled to for the cool months. They'd all frolic about in the stuff, wearing thick furs, sipping warm concoctions, and building lumpy things from the frost. Sure, there were the grumpy loons who couldn't care less, but he felt alone regardless. Didn't anyone else find the bleakness depressing? It was like the bones of the world were showing, bleached by the sun and promising life would not return.

The wind bit into the two pinpoints of liquid magic on his neck and Rose winced. The ooze from his special marks had been threatening to freeze over for days and, until then, they sent a chill through him every time the breeze caught them. Regretfully, he hadn't managed to grow a full coat of fur in time for winter. He only had short, wispy fuzz that the cold shot right through. His paws weren't protected either and he found himself forced to shuffle uncomfortably. His time staring sadly off into space, it seemed, had to be over. Yet, going back to the hall was equally as unappealing as standing out on the hill and freezing. Rose miserably weighed his options with as much delay as he could muster.

Suddenly, a speck tumbled across the landscape in front of him. He almost missed it amongst the fog, but a bright blue feather was bouncing along, shoved by the wind. Rose watched for a moment before realizing that he had to capture the little thing. If he let it escape his line of sight, it'd be just another color lost to the endless grey and white. Who knows when he'd catch a glimpse of something like it again. With a burst of frantic energy, he started to scramble down the hill, as the blue was already almost gone. He plunged chest deep into the freezing snow, sending up clumps of it as he struggled for a footing without letting his eyes leave his target. Despite its thickness, the frost provided surprisingly little traction. He was quickly sent into an uncontrolled slide that had him spinning around and, soon enough, tripping to roll head over paw. Everything was a blur for a moment, but the rise wasn't all that tall. He was soon deposited in a heap of disturbed snow at its base.

Gasping for air as the cold clamped around his ribs, Rose broke free of the snow pile. He swung his head about, afraid he wouldn't be able to locate the feather again. His gaze managed to snap to it just as it peacefully slid into the cover of fog. Kicking all about, he struggled to free his limbs from the tangle. As soon as he could, he sprung from the lump of white and plunged into the deep snow again. It still climbed up to his underbelly, so running in it was a fruitless struggle. He found he had to bound along, trying to hop above the surface to gain ground before he came back down into the shock of ice again. Despite his painfully slow pace, he caught sight of a patch of color amidst the haze. The wind had decided to have mercy on him and had slowed. The brilliant feather sat just ahead, rocking delicately back and forth atop the crust of frost. As he neared, Rose made sure to slow his pace so that the air moved by his method of locomotion wouldn't disturb the object. He stepped high in an attempt to reach over the snow, still trying to move fairly quickly in case a gust were to snatch the feather away from him. Stretching out his neck as far as it would go, he scooped up the quill in his mouth. He'd got it.

The trudge back to the hall was long and bitter cold. He hadn't realized how far he'd gotten from its shelter. In fact, if he hadn't had the trench his chest had dug through the drifts, he might have been lost in the fog. He shuddered at the thought, as there would have been no guarantee that it would have cleared with the rise of the sun. He could have been alone out in the field, so close to safety, but unable to see through the blanket of grey. With that thought on his mind, he dutifully stuck close to his trail, even following it back up the hill despite being fairly certain he knew where he was at that point. He went straight to the sealed entrance of the hall and, once there, carefully entered so as to not wake the many sleeping loons inside. As soon as he stepped onto the large rugs protecting the flooring from the damp of outside, the snow all over him began to melt into chilly water. He tried to shake himself dry, but had to be extra cautious as to not fling the icy drops onto a nearby stranger. When he was about as dry as he thought he could get, he tiptoed past the many lumps of fur to an empty spot of ground near the great fireplace that whispered with large flames. He curled up on a thick blanket that had been twisted into a nest shape and placed the feather between his paws. He eyed it, framed by the orange glow the fire behind it. You and me, he thought, we'll make it through this. The feather, of course, did not reply. Rose felt a twinge of loneliness in his chest, but there was nothing for it. With a sigh (that he ensured wouldn't blow the feather away), he laid his head down and did his best to fall asleep.