A woman slowed her horse as she reached the top of the snowy hill. The remaining daylight cast a dim golden hue over the land. The village below twinkled like a blanket of fallen stars. The distant stone castle was like the moon nestled amongst the fir trees. 

Taking a delicate pace, the woman walked her horse into town. The cobbled streets were a luxury after trudging through the icy woodlands. Her hooded cloak was heavy on her shoulders. She admired the glowing shop windows from the shadowy alleys she favored. People bundled in thick sweaters and scarves rushed home to their fireplaces and hot meals. The world would wake again once the warmth remembers to return. Warmth. Silence swept over the town, a silence that can only be heard during snowfall. 

 

When the days were warmer, the woman would be found perched by her window, like a marble statue carved to spend eternity on her settee, with her book resting on the sill. The sun always smiled at her. She always smiled back. The kids played in the fountain across the courtyard as mothers hung freshly washed linens to dry on their balconies. 

 

As the woman approached the wooden gates of the castle, she bundled the cloak around her, her golden hair blowing in the calm wind. She hid her horse in the castle's stables. She went unnoticed as she made her way through the servant's entrance. She snuck through the inky corridors, avoiding the torch-lit halls. She was a rabbit making her way into a hibernating bear cave. When she reached the top of a stairwell, a cold hand grabbed her arm. The woman turned as she came face to face with winter incarnate. Her sage eyes darkened. The man's grip weakened. 

 

"Spring," he said, his moonlight eyes scanning over her face. 

 

"It's been too long Winter," Spring whispered, pulling back her hood. 

 

 

"What are you doing sneaking around here," Winter murmured as he glanced around to ensure they were alone. 

 

"No one knows I have come here. There is an urgent matter I need to discuss with you," Spring pleaded in a hushed tone. Winter's face grew wary. 

 

A sudden noise prompted Winter to take Spring's hand and lead her to a secluded study. Spring admired the roaring fireplace, wood furniture, and towering bookcases. Glass doors were open on the far end of the study, letting in the falling snow. 

 

"You should not be here Spring, my time is almost over," said Winter as he stoked the fire with a poker, "You should be preparing to start your season." He glanced at her, the flames illuminating his midnight-black hair. 

 

"That is why I need to talk, I can't... seem to begin spring." Spring sat in the wool armchair by the fire after taking off her cloak.

 

Winter sat in the armchair across from her. He poured them both a cup of tea. "Oh so you're not here because you miss me," he grinned, his features thawing. 

 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Spring's face. It had been years since they last met, the season tended to stay within their territories, only gathering on special occasions to plan major weather events. Although each season had its land, everyone would experience the same season. It was Winter's turn then. 

 

"I do miss you, Winter," Spring said sincerely. "I would not have come if the situation was not dire," she hesitated. "Every year when the spring equinox arrives, I begin my reign with the warmth I would keep alive throughout the colder months but it...  it feels dim now, like a light that has gone out." She peered down at her hands resting in her lap. 

 

"How so?" Winter said simply as he took a sip of tea. 

 

An icy breeze made Spring wince, but with a simple motion of his hand, the glass doors shut with no trace of the snow filling the room. 

 

"I'm not certain of the cause of this dimness. This feeling has been growing over a few springs now. I feel exhausted and alone. I sometimes question if the world is better off having a longer winter or skipping straight to summer. I thought to tell Mother Nature, but she does so much and I fear I would burden her. Now it feels all too late." 

 

"I see," Winter's eyes narrowed. "You do the same thing for centuries and to you it seems that no one finds beauty in what you do anymore. The monotony of your job eats at you and you begin to believe the other seasons have more to give to the world." It was like he was reading her mind. 

 

Winter continued, "I felt that way two years ago. You probably remember that spring being a rather lively one. I couldn't bother bringing in any harsh storms so I made it rain and rain. Then there were three hundred years before that, but I blame the humans for that time." Winter had said it so casually that it took Spring a moment to realize what he was telling her. He too, over the centuries, had doubts like her. 

 

"I'm sorry you felt that way, How did you manage to bring about winter during those years?" 

 

"I knew that the next season was relying on me to pass on the reigns, I did not want to let her down," Winter remarked as he focused on her. Spring met his glance. "What helped me warm my cold feet the most was speaking with Mother Nature. She reminded me of all the parts of my season I admire. I wouldn't hesitate to talk to her, I know she would be more than happy to help." 

 

Spring had Summer to consider. She felt a smile grow on her face. It warmed her cheeks. 

 

"I will," Spring said shyly. Winter smiled back at her. He had pulled on her string of struggles, unfurling the sweater she was trapped in.

 

"Wait, what occurred three hundred years ago with the humans," Spring asked inquisitively.

 

Winter smirked, "Oh you know how the humans are, they sit by their fires and curse the frigid weather when all they do in the summer is wish for some rain or wind. I guess it got under my skin that time," He reminisced. His words were candid but Spring could tell he found the human's disapproval amusing now. Spring was fortunate that people had little to complain about when she was ruling over them. People enjoyed her season. Talking with Winter now made Spring wish they had shared more conversations over the years. She found solace in his company. 

 

 "After a long cold winter, the world is also not looking to have more bitter weather or cut straight to the sweltering heat. People especially need time to plant their crops and change their wardrobes," Winter noted. 

 

"So I'm just a transaction period," Spring jested. 

 

Winter leaned closer to her. "You are the beginning of everything. Without you, I could not do my job, and none of the seasons could." He started refilling their cups. "I'm surprised you held up this long Spring, Autumn has written to me countless times saying we are practically the same season and that I should take over the start of December."

 

"You too are nothing alike, people rather enjoy Autumn," Spring teased. She glanced at the crackling fire, the embers mirrored the ones igniting in her. 

 

"That is what I told her," Winter beamed. 

 

They both started to laugh. They talked all night. Then when Dawn came by to start the day with her silver light, they talked some more. 

After saying goodbye, Spring snuck out with her horse while the world still slumbered. She felt her soul begin to thaw the moment she saw him again.