Cast a Dark Shadow part 1
anonymous
March 9 2009, 08:19:09 UTC
A/N: … probably not what OP expected.. D for Drama
*
Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. - Shakespeare
Cast a Dark Shadow
*
The forest was quiet as the tiny figure walked.
The snow crunched almost inaudibly beneath small feet and the blue hue of the air was an ill omen drifting across the ground. The little country tried to ignore the frightful feelings as he picked up branches that had fallen from the bare trees for firewood. It was more out of nerves than real necessity though, and as the child continued on slowly, it became more and more obvious that this path had not been used by anyone for a while.
“Bon-Bonjour?” Canada questioned into the empty woods, wide eyes searching for any of his French settlers. He had been seeing fewer and fewer of his caretakers as the days became longer, and finally the little nation had ventured out for fear of being alone in the vast, wild land.
Blond hair shifted in the cold breezes and the child’s breath froze faster as he made his way deeper down the path.
“Bonjour?” Canada’s calls came more frequently, and he stumbled through the trees more quickly, fear creeping on his heels. So caught up in moving, the small nation was unprepared for when the path suddenly opened up into a wider clearing, and let out a tiny sound of surprise.
There, in the centre of the path - he had happened across a strange man.
Canada held his breath. The man was a towering presence against the snow. His cloak was long and dark, whipping in an invisible wind as he stood. His bushy moustache was brittle, small icicles hanging from sides. Wrinkles and crows feet around eyes belied his age. He had the appearance of a military man.
“M-monsieur…” Canada spoke up shyly to the imposing figure. “Bless you. H-have you seen-….”
The rest of the question faded away when baleful, black eyes turned themselves on him. The wind picked up and seemed colder, and Canada was stuck shivering, unable to break the frightening stare.
“Hmph.” The man muttered, voice accented in a language the small nation did not know. “The ones you are looking for,” The man’s words were like ice. “I took their lives.”
Canada’s light blue eyes went wide and the small nation dropped the bundle of wood from shaking hands. He took a step back.
The man’s voice was thick and deep.
“And one day, I will come to take yours.”
Canada turned and ran.
*
The small nation ran until he had reached the safety of one of his settlements, and not too soon after, Canada’s feet dug into the snow as he trekked desperately to meet with one of his Indian nation friends. The tiny country passed the path into the forest with his eyes lowered, remembering what had lain down there.
“Who is he?” Canada asked timidly, sitting amongst the only people he could rely on now.
“He has many names.” A young native girl handed the small nation preserves of vegetables and fruits. “But he is Winter. He will always be there.”
Canada stayed silent for a long moment, chewing his small lip uncertainly. “And how… How do you fight Winter?”
The girl blinked at him incredulously, and Canada felt cowed. “You can’t fight Winter.” She replied.
That night, back in his own place, the tiny nation peeked out between the drafty wooden boards of the shelter, out into the darkened blue snowy world.
General Winter was a shadow amongst the trees, and their eyes met for a chilling second before Canada whirled away from the crack, heart racing in that small chest. The wind howled outside as the child stared into the flickering fire.
*
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude.
- Shakespeare
Cast a Dark Shadow
*
The forest was quiet as the tiny figure walked.
The snow crunched almost inaudibly beneath small feet and the blue hue of the air was an ill omen drifting across the ground. The little country tried to ignore the frightful feelings as he picked up branches that had fallen from the bare trees for firewood. It was more out of nerves than real necessity though, and as the child continued on slowly, it became more and more obvious that this path had not been used by anyone for a while.
“Bon-Bonjour?” Canada questioned into the empty woods, wide eyes searching for any of his French settlers. He had been seeing fewer and fewer of his caretakers as the days became longer, and finally the little nation had ventured out for fear of being alone in the vast, wild land.
Blond hair shifted in the cold breezes and the child’s breath froze faster as he made his way deeper down the path.
“Bonjour?” Canada’s calls came more frequently, and he stumbled through the trees more quickly, fear creeping on his heels. So caught up in moving, the small nation was unprepared for when the path suddenly opened up into a wider clearing, and let out a tiny sound of surprise.
There, in the centre of the path - he had happened across a strange man.
Canada held his breath. The man was a towering presence against the snow. His cloak was long and dark, whipping in an invisible wind as he stood. His bushy moustache was brittle, small icicles hanging from sides. Wrinkles and crows feet around eyes belied his age. He had the appearance of a military man.
“M-monsieur…” Canada spoke up shyly to the imposing figure. “Bless you. H-have you seen-….”
The rest of the question faded away when baleful, black eyes turned themselves on him. The wind picked up and seemed colder, and Canada was stuck shivering, unable to break the frightening stare.
“Hmph.” The man muttered, voice accented in a language the small nation did not know. “The ones you are looking for,” The man’s words were like ice. “I took their lives.”
Canada’s light blue eyes went wide and the small nation dropped the bundle of wood from shaking hands. He took a step back.
The man’s voice was thick and deep.
“And one day, I will come to take yours.”
Canada turned and ran.
*
The small nation ran until he had reached the safety of one of his settlements, and not too soon after, Canada’s feet dug into the snow as he trekked desperately to meet with one of his Indian nation friends. The tiny country passed the path into the forest with his eyes lowered, remembering what had lain down there.
“Who is he?” Canada asked timidly, sitting amongst the only people he could rely on now.
“He has many names.” A young native girl handed the small nation preserves of vegetables and fruits. “But he is Winter. He will always be there.”
Canada stayed silent for a long moment, chewing his small lip uncertainly. “And how… How do you fight Winter?”
The girl blinked at him incredulously, and Canada felt cowed. “You can’t fight Winter.” She replied.
That night, back in his own place, the tiny nation peeked out between the drafty wooden boards of the shelter, out into the darkened blue snowy world.
General Winter was a shadow amongst the trees, and their eyes met for a chilling second before Canada whirled away from the crack, heart racing in that small chest. The wind howled outside as the child stared into the flickering fire.
*
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