To Drown in Sand

A Winter's Tale

There are many collections lining the shelves of Ashurbanipal.

Among these collections are stories written by the Supreme Beings. The most beloved of these collections are the stories of the Guardians...

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It's cold in the far north.

So painfully, frightfully cold.

The lands are lush and vast, perfect for farming in the Spring. Summer sees fields yielding promise for a great harvest. Fall is the time to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

It is Winter, with his cold and terrible grip, that shows no mercy.

No matter how high the sun shines in the day, his chill always creeps in. Hanging in the air like a constant reminder. Early morning breaths are crisp and fogged no matter the time of year.

It's cold in the far north.

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The North is beautiful.

They are the first ones to come here from the New World. They arrived with the others on the ships from the east, their kings and queens left far behind. Everyone chose to settle where their feet met Earth after so many months at sea. But their gaze was set on a life of their own. They sought total freedom from their old lives.

And so they followed the call of the North.

They elected a leader, a man of strong body and stronger ideas. He led them through the forests and the fields. He taught them how to hunt and stay warm. He laid down the first post of their new town.

He killed the heretics that tried to stop them.

He tried to teach them the good book but there was no saving them. They spoke not a word of his language and could not be converted fast enough.

And so he did the merciful thing and cleansed them of their sins by fire.

Only one was saved.

A girl, too young to have understood how her people were wrong. She was too young to have been tainted by their uneducated ways. She was too beautiful to let go.

And so she became their leader's wife.

They took her people's fields, excited for the harvest they were sure to receive. For surely this was their blessing for cleansing the land of the heretics. They danced and celebrated as they built their town on the remains of the village.

The wife wept and muttered all the while.

The North is beautiful.

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A child was born with the beauty of Winter.

The Spring showed promise and new beginnings. Houses were built with the plentiful wood of forest. Their homes were grand, more than enough timber to build their dream houses. There was plenty of lumber to spare to keep such large houses well heated in the Winter. Prayers were spoken with pure reverence under the high roofs of the church. Their leader's wife had just been announced with child.

A boy, the priest proclaimed. A boy who would take over after his father and lead them into continued prosperity. Those were the blessed words from above. And so their town celebrated. Celebrated all the fortune they gained and what was to come. All while the wife still wept and muttered.