She crouched on one knee, the fingertips of both hands braced in front of her, like a sprinter about to launch. The snow on the ground was thicker than before. Her fingers sank into its powdery depths, while fluffy flakes swirled around her face, drifting silently from the inky blue mantle above.
Around her, the evergreen forest towered against the starry sky, and the boughs were laden heavy with white. The mountain shone above all else, so distant, its solitary star shining down between the shredded clouds. She remembered that something had distracted her before, pulling her focus away from the mountain and the promise that lay there.
"Are you ready?" A voice, deep and velvety, calming and beloved, spoke into her ear. She turned to see the tall, hooded man crouched beside her. His face was entirely obscured, there was nothing about him which made him knowable, save for his voice.
She couldn't seem to find a reply, and after a beat of silence, he reached a hand forward. Black-gloved fingers moved towards her breast and lightly touched the bare skin near her heart. Startled, she looked down, and when the dark fingers pulled away, she could see that a gaping wound was there, crudely stitched closed.
"What happened to me?" she whispered, and the words sounded odd, as if they echoed inside her skull but did not leave her lips. Her free hand lifted to gingerly touch the thick cord that had been poked and pulled through her flesh. She felt no pain. No fear.
Black fingers moved again, the tips lighting upon her chin, turning her face towards the shadowy figure with surprising gentleness. "It will heal," he said quietly, with absolute, calm certainty. "It will heal if you let it."
A rush of gladness swelled in her chest, a surge of joy that seemed disproportionate to hearing such simple words, yet felt completely natural and understandable inside her dreaming mind. She leaned over and flung her arms around the cloaked figure, quivering with a relief and hope that was so poignant, so sharp, she felt she might die from its intensity.
His arms wrapped smoothly around her bare body, and they were cold, as cold as the biting night air and the snow around them. Like frozen iron, they held her tightly, but there was nothing carnal in the embrace. It was one of reassurance, protection, and loving encouragement.
"I must go now," she heard herself saying, and was dismayed at the sound of her own words. She did not want to leave his frozen hold. She wanted to stay there forever. To die there.
But he was already releasing her, standing to his feet and pulling her up by her hand. "Do you have what you need now?" he asked in the same soft, smooth tone.
As if on cue, she felt an object against the flesh of her back, gently laid from shoulders to hip. She did not need to turn and look to know what it was. Her fingers tightened around his hand. Turning her gaze to the north, she saw the mountain there, faint and distant, a rugged shadow blotting out the stars.
"Yes," she murmured. "I'm ready."
She felt his fingers loosen and fall away. A whisper of panic pierced her heart, and she turned away from the mountain, looking towards the hooded shadow that now towered above her. She stood still. Indecision gnawed at her mind. The mountain held the promise. The man held her heart.
He began to step away slowly, moving backwards towards the dim mists that hovered between the fir and pine trees. "Find me when it's over..." The words echoed in the air all around her, she heard them inside her head, and felt them reverberating through her bones. As she watched his form grow faint and dim, his face lifted as it to study the night sky, and the starlight caught upon his eyes and shone brightly in the silver-grey hues.
A rush of wind hurled down from the treetops, roaring through the forest. Her hands flew up over her eyes as snow whirled and battered softly against her face. Then, just as quickly, the gale passed, and her arms lowered. She squinted towards the place where the hooded man had stood, but he was gone.
