Winter Solstice Wander

It came early, the cold. He’d been expecting as much what with the early signs, but it still seemed strange. For all that it was strange it was lovely. There was just something about the change in the way the air smelled. That delicious shift from dry crackling leaves to the almost indescribable, delicate perfume that was not so much the snow itself as the promise of it. There was both to be had now that it had really gotten going, and while he suspected he might be pinched for supplies in the future, for now he could enjoy that lush blanket of white that had pulled itself snuggly across the landscape.

Also, for now there was a Festival.  Hard to entirely let yourself worry about when and if you’d have to pad out the larger with hunt and forage when there was collective joy and games. An energetic fist shaken under the nose of seasonal stillness.

 Shavn flicked an ear and grinned as a pair of Woolyne bolted past him, shouting, and laughing as they tried not to slide in the snow or drop the arm load of snowballs, they were each carrying in the crook of one arm, desperately trying to pelt each other with the other.

He didn’t think either of them came close once while they were in his sight.

There was time to wander, and he lingered to watch decorations be strung, lingering to gather ideas for his own home from garlands of pine, to strands of dried fruit. He always admired those with the steady hand and patience to get evenly cut and dried slices of oranges. Their rinds and uneven texture always seemed set to test his patience and he found it more relaxing to sit with the fruit and a dish of whole cloves, pressing them into the rind to make a pattern.

They were supposed to be good luck too, he thought he remembered hearing, as well as being theoretically good at warding off sickness. Then again maybe that was more down to the ability to have and eat the fruit than any mystical property of spiced citrus.

Maybe he’d try again with the sliced oranges though. Add some cranberries and blueberries, dried and strung, and it would both be a lovely garland and something the animals could eat. They deserved a little help with their larder too, didn’t they?

He lingered over offerings at the market, trying to concentrate on the goods that would last a while, but inevitably the smells from baked goods were too strong a lure to resist, and he gave in to sugary rolls and loafs of rich bread both savory and sweet, tucking them safely into bags to bring home with him.

It was full dark by the time he finally gave up and headed toward home, his path homeward partially erased by fresh snowfall, but well lit by the drifting ghostly lights that hung across the sky like brief, glorious garlands of their own.

Beautiful.

He stopped shy of his own threshold, back to the door and watched lights whirl across the sky, trying to imagine a shape behind them. A night colored woolyne perhaps, one in Amirlyns build but one with a coat and horn so dark they were invisible against the night sky and stars except for the colors they whirled around them in a flickering, elegant dance.

It might be a long winter, started early. It might be one with unknown challenges hiding in the deepening drifts of snow. But it was one that, on the whole, people were facing with joy and sound and light.

He thought they’d be alright.