Free Winter's Kiss by DS Williams

He
walked out of his cave and shivered, beating his arms against around body to
try and get the blood flowing again. His name was Xing although he was no
longer sure if that was true. So many names over the years, so many lives he
had lived that they seemed to merge and swirl like the snow all around him.
Despite prodigious layers of furs draped over him his old frame was cold. That
was the cruelty of living, when you finally get a good idea of how to do it you
start to die. He chuckled at his own melancholy. That was not like him. The
wind shifted the snow into swirls of living ice that danced around him seeming
to lick at his furs in an attempt to draw out the last of his heat.
    With a
simple gesture and a quick thought he cast a small magic that made a small
tornado of wind that sucked the drifting snow into it until it was a solid
vortex of ice. He watched his creation as the ice shifted and swirled and
danced for him. There was a day when he had awed the imperial court with such
small tricks as though they were great magics that could change the world. He
had, long ago, had the appearance trappings, and office of an important man.
How strange he thought to himself that only now, standing alone, did he fully
understand how little power he had there and how much he had here standing on
the side of a mountain. Exile had been first cruel but then kind to him. Living
where they assumed no mortal could live he stood now above the world looking
out at the kingdoms of man before him. They were so small compared to
everything he had thought of them.
    He
flicked his hand again and the ice vortex flew apart and the snow continued its
chaotic dance of nature. The wind, the snow, the cold, the sky, the clouds,
even the stone under his feet, all of these things he could command but he no
longer cared to on most days. Instead he took great joy in watching them do as
nature dictated. Even the stone. He would sit and watch the stone for hours and
while most saw stagnation he saw perseverance and courage. Stone, by its nature
wants to fall down. A rock, freed of the mountain’s hold, will roll until it
reaches the bottom. But this mountain was like he, old and stubborn. It refused
to release the rocks to their playful jaunt, holding them firmly in place so
long as it could. He admired that.
    He
caught a scent in the wind. Here in this lonely place the faint smell of plum
blossoms. Sweet to the point of pain, the scent, even the very feint trace of
it, reminded him of younger days and women whose kisses were as sweet as the
scent. He grinned. She was coming. There had been no doubt in his mind that she
would, the cold was too intense for her to stay away. Here so close to the sky
the days of sun could warm even her flesh but these nights of cold were brutal
in their invasive caresses. Like long fingers of cold they would sneak under
any covers and tickle your feet until the chill was deep in you. Even he, a
master of fire, had nights so cold he thought he could not endure them. He had
no idea how it must be for her. So when the cold north wind began to blow he
knew she would come. She always did.
     “How
many animals must you drape over yourself old man?” Her voice drifted in out of
the cold night ahead of her. It was smooth like honey. He grinned.
    “As
many as I can.” He answered and chuckled.
    She
seemed to drift in between one shift of the wind and the next, a vision that
the night flickered before his eyes. Resplendent in crimson robes trimmed in
silver fox fur that hugged her lithe frame and seemed to be part of her. The
wind did not wish to disturb the beauty of the vision, it left her robes un
touched even while tearing at his furs. Her face was hidden under a cowl so
that her voice seemed to echo from the darkness, slithering forth to seduce his
hungry ears with licks of sweetness.
    “I
thought WuJen were forbidden to eat meat.” She said stepping closer.
    “Oh. .
.yes. . .they are. Thus my paradox.” He said chuckling.