Gathering Storm

The clouds gathered swiftly, and the rider stopped his horse to get a better look. He tilted his head back, and a harsh wind blasted them from the north. It continued to blow, and the clouds multiplied and darkened.

For a moment, the temperature seemed to even out. Small, sporadic snowflakes collected on his horse’s dark mane. Gentle for now, the storm was approaching rapidly. The expanse of the meadow would be a white out soon.

“We’re too far from home.” His companion spoke aloud, and he turned to agree with her.

“We can make it to the forest up the hill.” He decided.

Snow clung to the woman's hair, and even in her fur lined coat, she crossed her arms close to her body. Without a second thought, he shrugged off his own coat, and stepped forward to wrap it around her.

When they reached a suitable enclave within the trees, the pair split up in search of materials.

Occasionally, the man raised his head as he worked to check for his companion, and he would spy the back of her, bundled like a bear. Her arms were fuller each time he looked, determined to gather more than they needed. He did not mind that his own exposed skin stung in the cold. If she was warm and safe, that was all that mattered.

What little sun was left had begun to dip towards the horizon, and the snow picked up momentum.