The snow crunched beneath their boots as they waded through
it. It had stopped snowing days ago and on that morning for
the first time in that world the sun rolled her bright face
out from behind the clouds and the blue of the sky was
spread above them in an exotic display of color over the
barren white world.
Walking through the snow was difficult for there were no
paths on this side of the continent. Often he would pause to
look at his compass and then take her hand, for the support
it gave her and also to urge her to continue. She would
occasionally lean in to him, placing her head on his
shoulder, she had taken her hood off and for the first time
in his life he saw the golden hues the sun made in her
brunette curls and it filled his heart with wonder.
They had little food left, but somehow they both felt ready
to die if death came, as long as they were together, as long
as the sun was there, shinning on them. Every hour that
passed the warm sun beat upon the snow that began to
resemble watery ice rather than the powdery snow they knew
so well. It grew so warm that they both removed their coats
and their fleeces. He tied the coats in a bundle and to his
pack.
Hand in hand, mitten in mitten they walked, and the level of
the snow became lower and lower. When evening came the sun
traveled to the western part of the sky, veiling the world
in hues of scarlet, orange and purple. He had never seen
such colors in his life.
"What's that?" he said, pointing to a strange silver curve
that hung in the sky. He had not recognized the sun when it
had come, he had not even known of its existence, but she
had. He knew she came from some far off land where the sun
shone every morning and when it rained or snowed, the snow
stopped, the clouds parted and the sun would come out the
next day. He knew that somehow her coming here had brought
the sun too, had caused the clouds to part.
"It's the moon." She murmured. He looked at her, the silver
curve that hung in the sky - the moon - reflected in her
dark eyes. He realized how tired she would be after so many
days of walking in the snow, which she must not have been
used to. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her
close; she leaned against him and closed her eyes.
When the sun finally set, the stars came out, all around
them from horizon to horizon the small diamonds dotted the
sky, infinite in number. They found a hill on which the snow
had completely melted and the hard soil was dry. There they
pulled up their tent and slept for the night.
He woke up to a sound that was just nearly unfamiliar to
him. It was high-pitched, though pleasantly so, like a song
that you couldn't really sing; it was too wild and
disorganized to be a tune. He knew it was birdsong.
She was not there in the tent beside him, though he knew she
hadn't been a dream and that she would not leave him. He
knew she waited for him outside in the sunshine. He moved
aside the flap of the tent and gasped in awe when the new
day spread out before his eyes.
The snow was nearly entirely gone, except from a few small
patches of grayish white that still dotted the field and in
the absence of the snow flowers had shot out from the
ground, green plants with names he did not know had bloomed
in the sunlight, the trees' bark turned brown and small
green leaves decorated their branches, and the birds sang
cheerfully amongst those leaves, building their nests.
He walked out of the tent and sat beside her on the grass,
taking her hand in his and stroking it gently. He smelled
the air, it smelled of flowers, warmth and sunshine; there
was the sharp absence of the smell of snow. He looked at
her, tears running down his cheeks. His world had come to
life, there was no more snow - and it was all because of
her.