The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

Brandon pushed open the creaking door, the scent of home embracing him as he entered. The warmth of the hearth beckoned, and his family sat around the worn wooden table, patiently awaiting his return.

Alarra looked up from stirring a pot over the fire. "Well, Bran, how was your meeting with the children of the forest? Did you learn everything you wanted?" she teased, wiping her hands on her apron.

Torrhen, seated at the head of the table. "Did you have fun, son?"

Alys perked up from where she was arranging wildflowers in a vase. "Did they have magic and all that? Tell me everything!"

"It was everything I wanted, it was so cool, and awesome, and just the best." Brandon smiled as he started bouncing on his heels. "There was so much, I can't wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow is going to be the best."

"Yes, but what about the magic, what did you learn?" pestered Alys.

"Well, I can't tell you that now, can I? It would lose the magic of it, wouldn't it?" Brandon smiled. Alys squinted her eyes at him, giving him a contemplative look. "Or you have no idea what the magic is?"

"That's not true; I know what magic is, and now, because you were mean to me, I am not going to tell you," He said, crossing his arms and moving to the table to sit down for food while Alys looked flabbergasted.

"Well, time for food, and then you two have work to do," Torrhen said, smiling at his two children, hoping the following time would be kind to them.

/

As the day passed, with food consumed and work completed, and just like the snow piling up outside, so did the days pile on, turning into weeks, then months, and years. With time came the snow and hunger, frost-laced whipping winds bringing death to march every day. The winter seemed to never end as days blurred into each other.

With this weather, it became increasingly difficult to keep all the fields open and working. Animals started to starve just like everything else, becoming the first to be taken by the change in weather. Hunting became more difficult, with fewer wild animals both small and large.

Yet not all light was lost, for there were roaring fires. Abundant stores of timber and firewood provided a lifeline, and so in every home, the fire burned day and night to keep the cold at bay. The people of the north would not be so easily bested by winter's grasping bite.

"Happy name day, Brandon. One and Five years old already; it feels just like yesterday that I started to see you becoming all grown up," Alarra celebrated, rousing Brandon from his sleep.

"Thanks, Mom," he yawned awake.

"Now come on, time to get up, have breakfast, and then head off for your final day with Elder Oak," she told him while walking out of his room.

Brandon left his room and made his way to the dining room, the floorboards creaked louder than ever as the chipped walls passed him. The flickering flame in the fireplace struggled against the cold that hung to the home like a specter, despite the fire's roaring attempts, the cold could not be kept out.

The family had weathered the longest winter in time immemorial. Brandon looked to his parents whose cloths hung much looser than before as they prepared breakfast of a simple vegetable stew, that was made just two days past, but with a nice side surprise.

"Good morning, Brandon, sleep well," Torrhen asked as he shifted in his chair.

"Not bad, was yours better? You said you were quite cold yesterday," he asked.

"Oh, much better. Alara kept me warm. Haha," he bellowed.

"Too much information, Dad," Alys and Brandon said while Alara rolled her eyes.

"What's for breakfast, Mum?" Alys asked.

"Well, today is our area's turn to have some eggs, so we have some good old eggs on bread with stew," she explained.

"Yes, the best days are when it is our turn," Brandon exclaimed.

"Also, dear, remember today we are working on Jonnel's patch of farmland as Rodrick's patch can be cleared up by his lots," Torrhen explained.

"Sounds good, dear," she said.

After finishing his meal, Brandon headed into the village. As he stepped outside, a biting wind greeted him, as it passed down the street. Smokestacks of home were quickly swept away in shame, as less reinforced windows rattled. Doors were battered open from pilled snow that held resistance against the occupants.

The mud streets that used to echo with laughter and the sounds of children playing were now sombre, and the footprints in the snow were fewer and farther between. The houses, some boarded up, stood as silent scars.

Brandon walked through the village square, where neighbours and friends, wore loose clothes, haggard and drooping faces, and yet no one came to shiver. Houses with melting snow-covered roofs from hardy fires lined the streets, though sensed with the occasional snow-locked house of victims.

Reaching the designated meeting spot, Brandon found Edric and Jon. "Hey, Brandon," Edric greeted, his breath forming a frosty cloud in the frigid air.

"It's cold," Jon added, rubbing his hands together to generate some warmth.

"Really, I couldn't tell," Edric retorted.

"I know right, and I tell you, this morning when I looked down at my co-" Jon added with a smile on his face.

"Don't finish that. I don't want to know,"

"Come on, guys, let's get going," Brandon said, leading them to the outskirts of the village.

As Brandon, Edric, and Jon ventured out of the village, the desolation extended beyond its borders. The fields that were once teeming with life and vibrant crops now lay barren and desolate. Abandoned rows of fields lay bare, only growing more snow.

The wind swept through the empty fields, carrying with it a haunting silence. No sounds of chirping birds or buzzing insects greeted them. The air felt still and heavy, in their bodies as they tirelessly struggled through thicker and thicker snow. The few trees along their path, once tall and proud, bow under the weight of winter's prolonged grasp.

The trio continued their journey through the village, passing by Olga's house, its windows were dark, and its door swung slightly ajar, creaking in the chilly wind. Its front garden lay barren and empty, and no warm smells of home would ever waft through again.

"Come on, guys, let's get to the forest," Brandon told them. The three boys gave a small bow to the empty abode before heading off.

The towering trees that had once stood proud and strong now appeared withered and weary. The bark seemed faded and drained, branches drooped low as snow and ice strangled them. The once-lush canopy above, now sparse as gaping gaps allowing hollow and meaningless sunlight.

The air lay thick on their breath and it pressed in on their chests. The undergrowth was now entirely frozen in ice, captured in a single moment. Moss on the tree trunks clung weakly, as they started to peel down the trees. The forest was drained, as a skeletal version of its former self took its place.

And yet, as the trio stepped into the forest, they were stopped by the most unusual of things. Before them stood a beautiful bold, and proud white stag.

Its coat radiated an incandescent glow that illuminated the surrounding gloom. Its antlers, adorned with a delicate lattice pattern, glistered with ice reflected the sun and brightened it. With soft hooves that lightly tapped the snow, it glided softly across the top of the snow, never sinking below.

Eyes that mirrored the children of the forest peered into them before it dipped its head softly and calmly without a single bit of worry upon it. Before they could gaze upon it for long, it bolted deeper into the woods, followed by the howls of wolves and the sight of five wolves running deeper into the woods.

"A white stag. Incredible," Brandon said.

Jon gawped "Cool."

The three stood transfixed for a moment before snapping back to reality by the slapping of the wind. They moved on; they had magic to learn, an adventure to take part in, and their village to save.