Winter's Abdication
When you truly dedicate yourself to one purpose nothing else matters. Everything else fades into the background, overshadowed by the greatest love of your life. Reynard had been enslaved and conscripted to fight for kings and emperors more times than he could count. Even the best commanders he served under never came close to getting a fraction of the loyalty or effort he gave Winter every year.
The last few weeks before Spring were always a frenzy. Months of acting out the will of Winter, the empowering desire of the Season of ice and survival, meant Reynard was saturated in the madness of his duty. The slightest offence to Winter was dealt with as harshly as he could deliver. Yet, even when his actions were more striking and stronger than ever, they slowly did less and less. Winter was preparing to step down with dignity. In this, Reynard couldn’t bring himself to mimic the Season he served. No, while the cold eased and the air lost its bite, Reynard drew on all the power he was offered to cast raging winds and spread sneaking frost at night. He couldn’t just let Winter end. Not when he knew how wonderful it was, not after he’d done so much. It had been such a good, strong Winter...
Eventually he recognised where Winter had retreated from and he withdrew from those places. Somehow he always ended up in a place far from any hint of civilisation. This year it was a high hilltop that still had a blanket of snow and a view of the countryside as far as the eye could see.
The world looks and feels different for spirits. There are so many things that pass people by and they don't see it for what it really is. A gust of wind, a sylph. A mountain, a giant living beast. And Spring... An energy that emerged from its hiding spot deep within everything in nature. Except Reynard North who was determined to keep Winter's hold on the world.
He stood ready and waiting, watching the land shift and stir. The trees shook sleep from their branches and sent a flurry of renewed energy into the air. The perfectly pleasant breeze danced past Reynard, tugging at his Winter mantle. Come on, he thought, let's get on with this. Spring was in no such hurry, gently waking the world from its Winter slumber until Reynard spotted a blossom on a nearby bush. With a snarl and a flick of his hand, he froze it solid. That did the trick.
The gentle renewing energy kicked up, gradually building into more of a tempest that did no harm to the plants or animals around it, but shook frost from the rocks and dulled the teeth in the wind. What happened next may have come across as confusing or even ridiculous to a human, but to one who could see and feel those things it was an extremely complex dance, an ornate fight between forces of change and stability, life and death. Reynard wasted no time in sending out an icy chill to spread through that breeze of Spring's. As the air cooled and took on a Winter tone, a surge of triumph ran through Reynard. The feeling of Spring lulled and the Winter spirit pushed that for all he was worth. He danced and spun, sending spirals of frost and streaks of snow into the quickly cooling air. Winter spread across the land around him again, making the renewal of life lethargic and sleepy once more.
Reynard stopped to take a breath, forcing himself to act as if that hadn't strained his abilities as much as it had. Smirking even as his muscles gave him warning twinges. And then something happened that made his heart sink. The glowing light of Spring slowly gathered together, building up until it burst out suddenly, a yawn, a stretch, and Winter was shaken off.
This time as he leapt and twirled and forced ice into the world as much as possible, Spring danced around him. It thawed the frost before it fell and brushed him as it moved around him. Each time it did, he felt his Winter armour crack. Each motion that sent his power forth made him feel more and more empty. Still he fought, stubborn to the last. When he stumbled, he continued on his knees. When his legs couldn't find the power to move, he twisted on the spot. Finally, when his arms felt like stone and he couldn't lift them, he sat and took a moment to feel how weak he was. Spring still gathered around him, he felt it, and it sickened him, it offended him, but he couldn't do anything about it. There was nothing left in him. In one more act of aggression, defiance and despair he filled his lungs and let out an almighty bellow. He collapsed forward when his breath was spent and bit back a sob. After months of power and purpose he was left, yet again, hollow, sick with emptiness, and every part of him cried out in agony, as if his body no longer knew how to function. Hunger, exhaustion, pain, they all hit him at once. Instead of moving like he should have, Reynard rolled over and curled up. Winter was only just gone, but how he missed it.
** **
The days that followed were a messy haze of crawling through the countryside, failing to hitch a lift, and eventually finding somewhere that served wine. The wine came first, then a large burger, and then more wine. After his first meal, nothing else mattered except ensuring a constant supply of alcohol to numb the pain as his body tried to cope with the sudden change. And so, Spring had begun.