A Night in the Life
By Andrew Lyman

The night was void of sound, all but for the crunching of snow under heavy boots.
The rugged fox looked at the land about him. It was past midnight. With the full moon only days away, a bright blueish silver light was cast on the snow around. hardly any clouds covered the stars that night, and those that did were hilighted in silver by the bright moon.

It was difficult to not have a place to stay in such weather. At least it was not windy also. A wind in that chill would push the coldness underneath his garments and into his fur. Andrés actually loved that night. The stars shone brightly. He loved to gaze at them and imagine what stories they had to tell, or what gods were among them. the crunch of snow under his thick leather boots was satisfying, and he knew that anyone else would make just as much noise, so he was not worried about being ambushed. This was the first snowfall in a month, and like the last ones, it would likely not last more than a week. The season in this part of the realm could not be easily predicted, and it was warmer this year than some of the past ones.

Andrés clutched his cloak about him. A silver vapor rose from the fox's dripping nose. His wet footpaws inside the thick leather boots were nearly freezing. It was late enough that the cold of the beautiful night was finally getting to him. He did not look up at the stars and wonder at them, he did not apreciate the beauty of his surroundings anymore. He simply wanted a warm place to be. Maybe a fire? No. A fire would attract too many eyes. If only he were closer to a town, and had the money needed for an Inn. Or if he had a body next to his to share warmth with. He snickered at the thought, spraying some wet snot onto the snow below him. Had he become so rugged and heartless that a body next to his was merely a way to share warmth? He had not had another next to him in a long time, not since he last saw Cabás. That had been in May the previous year. It was now February. Andrés missed the equine warrior some. He shrugged, holding the dark green wool cloak closer about him. He would see Cabás again someday. Though he knew he must be kilometers away.

There was another horse in Andrés' life. A mare that had shown him how to use his sword when he got it. It had been over 6 years since he had last seen her. The cold fox thought about her, and the warmth her body had. He snickered again. If he was going to think about warmth why think about past lovers? Why not simply imagine a thick blanket or a roaring fire inside a smokey tavern? Epona was likely still in Shadoland Forest, and he knew that was many many kilometers to the south.

The continued crunch of snow beneath his boots was growing wearisome. He spoke to himself to break the dulling monotony. He spoke of wolves that he had seen in taverns, and of their beauty. He smiled to himself, even though he had never once been able to approach another whom he thought looked nice. He called himself a wuss, even though he had slain over 50 men. He talked to himself for a lot of the night, as he often did. Without someone else to talk to, one finds themselves speaking their thoughts aloud much more often. Andrés was one such person. He rarely had the money to sleep indoors, and he spent most of his days alone in the wilderness.

Andrés now walked to keep warm. His boot crunching into the snow, breaking the silence surrounding him repeatedly. He was growing tired, but would not stop walking while it was still night. With no clouds in the sky, the sun would warm up the air during the day, and he could get some rest in it. The eastern sky grew lighter even as he thought this. As he had conversations with himself, sometimes arguing, other times explaining things, he begand to look for a place to rest. He saw a place in the distance where he could find a place to rest. After walking over a wide stone that the snow had melted off of the previous day, he walked backwards in the snow, not walking directly towards the spot he knew would capture the suns rays, but rather windng his way towards it. He finally reached the spot, a few large boulders and expertly hid himself among them inside his heavy wool cloak. From the pouch on his lower back, he pulled a thin whool blanket, and spread it over himself underneath the cloak. As the sun broke over a crest and struck a nearby hill, Andrés huddled inside his layers of warmth and lay down underneath a boulder, nearly invisible. With a paw on the hilt of his sword the fox drifted to sleep nestled in between a coupled of rocks. That night he dreamt of the Druidic mare that took him in after he was exiled, and who he returned to to learn how to use a sword. It was a comfortable sleep and he was not disturbed once.