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Description
Deep in the forest, the wind blows without mercy. The snow strikes, arrows from the wailing clouds. A brown figure steps under the cover of the once majestic trees, staring out. into the repeating sight of trees. He walks on, thinking of a lost home, burnt down in the heat of war, of loved ones lost, and sits down, wondering of what had happened then.

He recalled a great war, one where brother fought brother, wolf against fox, where only those who were strong enough, fast, or even cunning enough would prevail.

The wanderer wept a tear, mourning the loss of his once comrades, teachers, family. He stared into the snow, thinking of how the land would be had the war never sparked up, his friends...and Her...He recalled her gaudy red cloak, drawing attention to every beast in the area and her hyperactive ways, being nearly a blur at times...but all that had changed...

Just as he had considered going on, exhaustion hit the wanderer and he dreamed a dream of a lady, strikingly strange in dressing, with a marionette. He called out to her, but only felt a stabbing pain in his side. The wanderer shook himself awake, expecting to see the snow, instead seeing three blade wielding strangers.

"Oi! You there! Gimme your bag there!" The one who had seemingly kicked the wanderer went. The wanderer only shrugged and threw the bag at the giant man. One of the three rustled through the bag, finding nothing of value, called out to the one standing the furthest away, shouting "Hey boss! Guy's just a waste of time!" The leader just called out, "Gut him, boys."

The two men near the wanderer immediately readied their blades, causing the wanderer to murmur," Is that supposed to make you look imposing?" The two men started charging at the wanderer. As they brought their blades down, the wanderer jumped onto the branches and shouted," Now THIS is how you look threatening!" And blades extended out of his gauntlets. He then shot both blades into the leader and smirked.

As the leader tried to pull both blades out, he suddenly felt multiple pains from within his body. He looked around, and noticed that icicles were sprouting out of his body. He tried to pull them out, but his arms were pinned to him by said icicles. He tried to scream, but an icicle had pierced his voice box. All he could do was gurgle and drown in his own blood, struggling like a fish trapped in a bear's mouth. But it was no use, he was a dead man.

As the two other bandits looked at their leader in horror, their leader's body suddenly exploded in icicles, showering them both in cold blood, causing them to quiver. They kowtowed to the wanderer in fear, begging for mercy. He turned to them, retracting his blades and said," I'll let you go this once, but if I see you mug someone again, you'll face even worse fates than him." The two bandits ran off, fearing the shadows beneath them.

In solitude again, the wanderer looked around. He walked towards the corpse and sighed." Damn, old habits do die hard." Using his hands, he dug a hole in the snow and pushed the bits of bandit in, saying," You don't deserve it, but it's cleaner than the alternative." as he covered the pit. He then left the grave, deeper into the forest he went,

Description
Deep in the forest, the wind blows without mercy. The snow strikes, arrows from the wailing clouds. A brown figure steps under the cover of the once majestic trees, staring out. into the repeating sight of trees. He walks on, thinking of a lost home, burnt down in the heat of war, of loved ones lost, and sits down, wondering of what had happened then.

He recalled a great war, one where brother fought brother, wolf against fox, where only those who were strong enough, fast, or even cunning enough would prevail.

The wanderer wept a tear, mourning the loss of his once comrades, teachers, family. He stared into the snow, thinking of how the land would be had the war never sparked up, his friends...and Her...He recalled her gaudy red cloak, drawing attention to every beast in the area and her hyperactive ways, being nearly a blur at times...but all that had changed...

Just as he had considered going on, exhaustion hit the wanderer and he dreamed a dream of a lady, strikingly strange in dressing, with a marionette. He called out to her, but only felt a stabbing pain in his side. The wanderer shook himself awake, expecting to see the snow, instead seeing three blade wielding strangers.

"Oi! You there! Gimme your bag there!" The one who had seemingly kicked the wanderer went. The wanderer only shrugged and threw the bag at the giant man. One of the three rustled through the bag, finding nothing of value, called out to the one standing the furthest away, shouting "Hey boss! Guy's just a waste of time!" The leader just called out, "Gut him, boys."

The two men near the wanderer immediately readied their blades, causing the wanderer to murmur," Is that supposed to make you look imposing?" The two men started charging at the wanderer. As they brought their blades down, the wanderer jumped onto the branches and shouted," Now THIS is how you look threatening!" And blades extended out of his gauntlets. He then shot both blades into the leader and smirked.

As the leader tried to pull both blades out, he suddenly felt multiple pains from within his body. He looked around, and noticed that icicles were sprouting out of his body. He tried to pull them out, but his arms were pinned to him by said icicles. He tried to scream, but an icicle had pierced his voice box. All he could do was gurgle and drown in his own blood, struggling like a fish trapped in a bear's mouth. But it was no use, he was a dead man.

As the two other bandits looked at their leader in horror, their leader's body suddenly exploded in icicles, showering them both in cold blood, causing them to quiver. They kowtowed to the wanderer in fear, begging for mercy. He turned to them, retracting his blades and said," I'll let you go this once, but if I see you mug someone again, you'll face even worse fates than him." The two bandits ran off, fearing the shadows beneath them.

In solitude again, the wanderer looked around. He walked towards the corpse and sighed." Damn, old habits do die hard." Using his hands, he dug a hole in the snow and pushed the bits of bandit in, saying," You don't deserve it, but it's cleaner than the alternative." as he covered the pit. He then left the grave, deeper into the forest he went,