There was no deer in the woods more beautiful than Cress.
He had a coat of pure white. I saw him from across the stream.
He was the only deer who had ever smiled. His eyes beckoned me near. What had I done that such a creature would want my company? How was I so fortunate?
The closer I drew, the more lovely he became.
He took the final step, and we regarded each other. "You are beautiful," Cress said.
It was the first time I believed so. I cried. I took joy in the fact that, to him, even my tears seemed beautiful.
He nudged my arm with his cold, white nose.
"Sister in the woods," he named me. "Travel by my side."
It hadn't been a ques
Winter's Kiss. Such a lying phrase. Winter's Sting, maybe. Or Blade. Or Hate.
He'd never kissed a girl, but knew if he had it wouldn't remind him of Winter. He'd think of Summer and Springtime, of warmth and comfort, the smell of the sun on the grass, her hand brushing against his.
Marta.
Straw-colored hair. He hadn't meant to upset her by saying so. He'd just never been good with words, and horrible with women.
Light burned too bright. Ice froze his lungs, stabbed his throat and eyes.
She appeared. Her brilliance dazzled. It melted the snow. He reached up. Neither cowardice nor evil Winter could stop him from kissing her. Not this time.