Winter: A Single Iteration

An old woman lived in a little cottage on the edge of the woods. It was nearing
the end of winter, but the snow was still thick on the ground.   She was in
no distress, for she lived in a land of plenty where few lacked anything and
she had much still laid up from the summer before. The woman was just wishing
the cold would depart soon, when she heard a plaintive scratching at her door.
There was a wolf without; he was huge, powerful, pure white with eyes of ice
blue, and a shimmer on his fur as if of light playing off of frost, yet he
seemed old, faded from a former power. The woman drew back, afraid of the
beast. Her eyes met his and she saw the terror within.

The woman saw the wolf's fear and opened the door just as another, even larger
than the first, came into view. The second wolf was golden, with touches of the
rich brown of new-turned earth and the red of the fruits of orchards and
vineyards; his eyes were filled with the sun at high noon, and wherever his
foot fell in the pursuit, the snow melted and green shoots grew up. The white
wolf sprung through the door and the woman clapped it to, leaving the other
without. The golden wolf howled after his prey, and the snow started to melt
all throughout the land.

Summer fell throughout the land, the snowmelt filling the rivers to almost
overflowing. The sun shone down brightly, waking all the life that had
been buried in the earth in a riot of green and blooming flowers. Men
went out to till and work the soil, and the harvests fair leapt into
their hands. But while all was green and growing outside, the woman's
cottage was filled with the wolf and the Winter. The beast was large
enough that he almost filled the main room, and he had brought the cold
with him. His breath filled the air with frost, and snow fell from the
ceiling to drift in piles on the floor.

Winter filled the cottage, but the Winter wolf had a gentle heart and a love of
beauty. The snow was always gleaming white and shining. Icicles hung from the
ceilings and doorways, and they and the frost on the windows were contrived to
be in delicate, pleasing patterns that shone and sparkled in the moonlight. The
woman went out to wash and clean by day, coming home with food for herself and
meat and berries (for the Winter wolf had always a love of anything sweet) for
her guest. In the evening, the wolf and woman kept close, for the as cold
as the Winter wolf's breath might be, the warmth and delight of a dark night
spent by a fire with loved ones was ever to be found in his coat. As they cared
for eachother, the old woman and the wolf soon fell in love, and one day the
woman found herself with child.

The wolf and woman fell in love, and they were both delighted at the thought of
a child, but their joy was only for a season, for Summer found his way into the
cottage, In breezes around the door and sunlight through the window and even in
the berries the woman brought her wolf. And, one day, the woman came home to
find the cottage bright and clean, filled with the scent of clover and
honeysuckle, and filled with the golden light of noon. It was empty, and she
wept for days, knowing that Summer had taken her love.

The woman wept and wept, but her grief soon broke into pain, but joy followed
after. The woman was sadly washing one day, when she felt the pangs of the life
within her ready to live free. The pain was intense, but brief, and she was
soon delivered of a snow white pup, with ice-blue eyes. He was large for a
newborn, and his coat glistened like moonlight on ice, his breath left frost in
the air. The wolf pup was playful and tender-hearted, having his father's
spirit. He adored his mother and brought her presents, likenesses or abstract
geometric beauty frozen in ice, always left for her on a bed of purest shining
snow. He would breathe frost on the windows and leave pictures within, and
frolic around the cottage.

The woman loved her wolf-child, and the Winter grew within the cottage along
with the Winter wolf. He grew almost too large to fit within the cottage, and
soon it was time for him to venture out. The pup, now stronger and bigger than
his father, with all the energy of youth coursing through his heart, said
farewell to his mother one last time before stepping outside. With the the
first touch of his paw upon the grass and shiver went through the world. All
the plants knew it was time for the sweetest, largest harvest of all-- the last
before the long sleep.

When the Winter wolf stepped, Summer felt it, and he ran as fast as he could to
escape. Winter explored the land, breath sending flowers to seed, until one day
he howled forth his challenge to Summer. The Winter wolf tracked him by scent
and rumour, running for days and days, slowly drawing near. By the new moon, he
had him in sight. Summer seemed smaller and older, his glories faded and his
fur all grey and dusty brown; seeing winter, he renewed his flight, and it the
chase continued still longer until on the night of the full moon the Winter
wolf caught Summer, leaping forward to pin him against the ground. Summer and
Winter looked into eachothers' eyes, Summer yielded, baring his throat to his
captor with a soft whimper. Winter bowed his huge head, licking the other wolf
as if in thanks for play. The moonlight touched Summer then, and he faded,
disappearing in a play of golden light that sank into the ground or blew away
on the wind.

Summer faded, and Winter walked the land, breathing on everything to send it to
sleep. And then the first snow fell.