Snowfall

The scene laid out before her was one she could never get tired of.

Cottages homes and storefronts on either side of her were blanketed in several inches of fresh, heavy snow. The little hamlet was deep into their winter season, the winter solstice just around the corner. The woman always regarded this as her favorite time of the year, without peer.

She took a deep breath as she slowly walked down the road to the center of the village, it’s population barely breaching a hundred citizens. Despite the small number, they seemed to get plenty done, and quickly at that.

Several grizzly men in thick fur coats were out on the streets doing one thing or another, a majority of them using various tools to remove the snow from the pathways into their homes, the handful that were done with their personal task took up the job of clearing the main road.

The woman waved as she passed a few unfamiliar faces, hand gloved in black leather, the inside of the accessory lined with soft fur. She wore something similar to the men, though hers was more a cloak than a coat, and one that trailed down to her ankles at that.

Beneath this cloak was a simple outfit of a smaller jacket, a tunic, and pants, an outfit often considered un-lady like in the more political parts of the country, but here it was common enough. The women often worked just as if not harder than the men in some respects.

A few of the men waved back, a couple just giving her odd looks as she passed. She swore one of them recognized her, but that was unlikely. Anyone this far from the capitol was was most likely oblivious to the on goings of the more populated regions. She was more than fine with that. She walked on, studying the various decorations adorning the town.

Most windows, shops and homes alike, boasted beautifully forged candelabras and other such lights, a common decoration during this time of the year. The holiday inspired silks and fabrics to be woven into decorations depicting varying ideas and items, many of them religious in some way or another.

As the women in the cloak walked the street, children ran up and down the road in the early afternoon light, basking in what little the sun would show of itself today. While it wasn’t the shortest day in the year, it was certainly close.

She smiled as she watched the children of varying ages play, gloved hands picking up and throwing snow at friends, others attempting to build structures from the pliable and cold material, fully knowing that their hard work wouldn’t last through spring no matter how hard they tried to preserve it.

She watched from a few yards away as a larger kid, nearing his teens, kicked down a surprisingly good-looking structure resembling a castle, the younger one who had been building it slumping where he sat.

The woman turned her course towards the crestfallen kid, feeling sorry for him. As she approached, he looked up, tears moments from falling.

“It’s not wise to cry in such frigid conditions.” The woman said logically, but ensuring her voice was soft and soothing enough so as to not set him off.

He sniffed, turning back to his destroyed creation. The woman felt bad, and weighed her options. She could just walk away, her part said, or she could risk it. Glancing back at the child’s defeated posture, she figured it wouldn’t hurt much.

The woman pulled the glove from her right hand, the cold air stinging her palm. With a flicker of thought, the cold was nonexistent to her, as simple as if she had slipped the clothing back on.

With that task complete, she outstretched her hand ever so slightly, moving it in a slow arc, the opposite of the direction the snow castle had fallen to the vicious kick. As her hand moved, so did the snow.

Much to the boy’s apparent astonishment, the castle rebuilt itself, just as it had been before, or as close as the Woman could make it. As her hand came to a stop and the snow once again became inanimate, the kid turned his head to her, eyes shimmering in not tears, but astonishment.

“Th-th-thank you!” He stuttered, voice having a very slight rasp to it.

“Least I could do.” The woman replied, accent much different from the boys. It was to be expected, after all.

With a final glance, the woman began her slow march towards the city center once again.

It was only a few minutes before she finally made it to her destination, a circle in the center of the town likely used for many different events and celebrations, but this time of the years was engulfed in the winter solstice, a celebration of light fire and the birth of a new year. The town center was dressed appropriately.

The circle was wide as four cottages in diameter, and was lit up with candles and lanterns, the shop fronts webbed with chains adoring caged candles just large enough to fit in the palm of her hand comfortably.

The outer path of the ring lead into a handful of shops of varying professions and wealth, but each easily distinguishable by colorful signs above their doors. Despite all the decorations covering these shops, nothing compared to the main attraction.

The very center of the ring was taken up by a pine taller than any building in town, the trunk alone half as thick as she was tall, roughly a yard total. It was trimmed long ago so as to be traversable, the lowest branches eight feet above the ground.

Speaking of the branches, they were equally as adorned as the shops.

Bronze chains and lights were draped across the entire tree, even up to the very top where a lantern the size of a dog sat atop it in roughly the shape of a diamond.

Men and women alike bustled around the square, a denser group underneath the tree, each focused on a task of their own. Tables were being carried from one door or another, chairs quickly following. Behind them were even more, each carrying varying supplies to set a table.

As she observed the setting of several feasting tables, she watched a group of men tugging a sled into the town center, a log as tall as any one of them being tugged along.

The log, she knew, was to be burned, starting from one end and to the other. Once they set the one end ablaze, they would begin the celebration which would last as long as the log would. Farmers often believed that every spark the log fired off would represent a new calf or piglet born that year.

Another stigma followed this tradition, one a little more ominous. It was stated that if the log didn’t burn through the night, the new year would be a terrible one indeed. Every person in this little village hoped the weather would be kind, all things considered.

The woman stayed there, watching the precession unfold around her for almost an hour before someone caught her eye, someone of a description she recognized.

“Mister McKeown?” She called, a hand raised to her mouth.

The man jumped, and the woman could read his nerves in the way he walked so stiffly, and combined with his sporadic head movements you’d think he had a hunter out for his head.

“I uh- I assume you’re the knight they sent?” The man, who the woman knew to be a village elder, asked as soon as he was within talking distance. He quickly thrust out his hand, but didn’t seem keen on keeping it there long.

“Yes, you man call me Everest.” The woman said, extending her ungloved hand to shake the elder’s, and elder he was indeed. His silver hair was long and matted, his beard a tangled mess. You’d think him homeless aside from the nice clothing he wore, pristinely laundered.

“Ah yes, very good, um…” The old man said, eyes shifting as he pulled his hand back to his side in a jerking motion.

“Let’s get to the point.” Everest said, voice cool and even. “What’s the issue you need solving?”

“Well, you see… Call me crazy, but a monster resides in those mountains…” McKeown said, lowering his voice at the mention of this supposed monster.

“No one here seems too concerned.” Everest replied, glancing around like the elder did every few seconds.

“Well, that’s because they uh- they knew you were coming, or someone of your caliber was. They’re confident in the order’s knight’s abilities to, er, ’solve problems’.”

“True enough. So, what kind of problems has this monster been causing? I’ll need a good picture of what I’m dealing with Mr. McKeown.”

“It’s a hulking beast from legend, said to roam during the cold months, and attack at the solstice, which has so far been proven uh… fairly accurate.” The elder said, shifting his feet in the snow.

“Does this monster have a name?” Everest asked, unfazed. She dealt with things like this far too often in her profession, but someone had to do it.

“Most call it Krampus…” McKeown said, shivering.

“Hm. Haven’t heard of it. Anything particular about it? Why do you wish it dead?” Everest replied, arms crossed.

“It-It takes children… Every year, for the last decade, at least one child had disappeared overnight on the eve of the winter solstice. We’ve sent parties of men looking, and none of them have returned thus far…”

Everest’s heart grew cold.

“Which direction?”

<<<>>>

Half an hour had passed before she finally stumbled upon what she was looking for.

The cave entrance yawned before her, signs of slaughter decorating the mouth of the cave like the hanging lights back in the hamlet. She chocked back bile, lifting a hand to her mouth.

“Disgusting…”

With the one word of comment, she marched onward, walking through and on bokes and old viscera, every crunch beneath her feet sending shivers down her spine, knowing that anyone one of these might be that of a lost child.

The entrance tapered a few yards in, but only slightly. Beyond the tapering was a black so pitch she couldn’t make out a single detail, not so much as an irregularity in the wall or otherwise. Still, she marched onward.

Until she stumbled upon the beast.

Walking through the void of black that engulfed the cave, Everest shed her gloves and coat, revealing her simple, easy to move in outfit that once hid beneath. Another thing once hidden was a rapier, the delicate handle of it a gleaming silver studded with pale blue gems.

As the blade was freed she felt a gnawing begin at the back of her head, an all too familiar sensation.

“Quiet, you.” Everest said, slapping the handle of the blade. “You’ll have your meal, you monster…”

With the chastising of the weapon, the buzzing in her head slowly faded away along with the headache she had felt coming on. But she realized something as she sighed in relief.

It sensed a meal.

Everest jumped back, and where she once stood a leg came down like a lighting bolt, the cave around her shaking.

The creature roared in frustration at it’s missed attack, and panic seeped into Everest’s heart. How could she fight in total darkness? Answering her own question, she turned, and ran.

She couldn’t.

It was only a few moments before she rounded a corner to the blinding light of the now noon sun, dashing towards it with as much speed as her legs allowed. All the while a great crashing was coming from behind her, this Krampus creature charging at its meal at full power.

As she breached the cave mouth once again, ignoring the blood-stained snow and viscera laid out before it, she turned after making it another dozen feet to finally meet her foe face to face.

It was a hulking creature, twelve feet tall at the very least, and half as wide. It’s hulking form stumbled into the light, it’s arms as thick as tree trunks and trailing down to its knees in a hunchback manor.

Atop its broad shoulders was seemingly the head of a goat, it’s long and rounded horns a dirty yellow, splattered with blood, much like the rest of its pitch-black fur was. It had clawed hands, but its feet were those of a goats, each hoof the size of a serving plate, it’s goatlike legs perfectly balanced on the uneven terrain around it. The worst of it all was it’s piercing crimson eyes, glowing in the shadows the cliffs around them cast.

“And this thing steals children in the night, to no one’s knowledge until morning?” Everest mumbled, finally drawing her blade.

The rapier had a name in a dead tongue, but Everest could roughly translate it through their connection. Avalanche truly lived up to its name.

As she drew the blade, a wind that simply didn’t exist up until that point whipped up the loose snow around her, and in seconds a halo of ice and packed snow swirled around her head, stray projectiles pelting themselves at the beast, who ignored the ice and snow like it was a breeze.

It roared once again, charging her like a bull. Everest jumped, retaliating with a slash as quick as lightning, a gash of red appearing on the monster’s shoulder. It screamed in pain as the wound froze over, the area around it turning a deep blue beneath the skin.

As she leapt, she left behind her halo of ice, allowing the Krampus to collide with it at full force. As it did, chunks of ice the size of apples and jagged as broken glass pelted it, a million cuts left all along it.

Everest landed lightly with assistance of her power over snow and ice, looking at the monster haughtily.

“Hardly worth the trip out here…” She said, leaping for it as it turned, agony written across it’s face as it bled profusely.

In a single swipe, its head fell to the cold earth below.

Its body had an entirely different objective, seeming to stop in place. Everest watched from behind as ice slowly crept over its body from the severed neck down to its hooves, encasing it in an inch-thick sheet of ice.

She let out a breath, bending over to inspect the glossed over eyes of the Krampus’ severed head.

“Hmph. Guess I need proof…” Everest reasoned, pulling up the nerve to wrap a rope belted to her waist around one of it’s horns.

It was going to be a long walk back.

<<<>>>

The walk, in the end, was worth it.

Everest sat at the head of a very large table the very next day, the day of the Solstice. The Yule log burned merrily at the edge of the inner ring, surrounded by stones to protect it from spreading its deadly flames.

Before her was a feast and happy people, everyone celebrating and rejoicing in her successful mission. The proof of her success was now bolted to the large pine, the severed head of the beast mounted for all to see.

Everest was leaning back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, a new coat across her shoulders. She decided not to wear the bloodstained furs, after it was retrieved by a team of the village’s men, who’s goal was to look for any sign of survivors.

All they found were bones.

Putting the grim thought to the side, Everest focused on the celebrations around her, the lights and food in the circle giving off waves of heat, light and the smell of good-cooked food.

“I’d just like to thank you, one last time.” Came a familiar voice to her left. “And are you sure you won’t take payment? We scraped together what gold we could, but-“

“No, no, this is fine. The order won’t be pleased they didn’t get a cut, but they can shove off for all I care. I’ll take my payment in the form of attending the festival.” Everest said, turning her eyes to meet those of the elder, McKeown.

“Then, by all means, feast!” He said loudly, voice creaking with age. He was much more lively and animated since she came back with the demons severed head, and he stopped glancing around so often.

“Yea. I think I will.” She replied.

And as the longest night of the year began, she grew comfortable with the simple people of the village, so far from the kingdom’s politics. She could get used to it here, easily.

But a knight’s work is never done.

End