The Frost | Nascent Ederren

How I had missed that air of silent chill, and the glow of flame which carries through the mist of winters loving embrace.

Once full of green and life, the woods and fields seem devoid of all things, save for the majesty of pine and the unworldly glow of holly.

The silent sounds of the falling snow echo about the still and quiet world. A world bathed in white, sleeping yet living at the verge of life and death.

To the fire one returns, to drink and remember the year which passed. To celebrate what too will come.

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