Winter Woods Novels & Stories

The wind sliced through the treetops, carrying the bitter scent of ice and smoke. I stood on the northern ridge, overlooking the rogue camp from a distance. Snow fell steadily, covering the ground in a thick blanket that muffled almost every sound, yet somehow made the faint movements in the forest easier to detect.

The neon red lights of the party pulsed like a rhythmic heartbeat, a sharp contrast to the biting chill of the Austin, Texas night. Inside the Riverside Duplex, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of pine, rain, and the underlying musk of the Austin Wolves hockey team. Kol Reyes adjusted the collar of his shirt, feeling exposed. His roommate, Valeria Cruz, had practically forced him into the outfit—a charcoal button-down that was tapered perfectly to his lean, athletic frame, paired with dark slacks and polished boots.

Chapter 62: The Uncharted Matrix The winter twilight was really quiet on the mountain ridge. Outside the library windows the pine branches were bent down because of the heavy snow. The dark branches looked really cool against the snow. Inside the big fireplace made the room warm and cozy. The warm light from the fireplace made the wooden floor look nice.

Three Weeks Later Warm, real sunlight streamed through the windows of the small, hidden cabin. It wasn’t the ranger station, nor the Crossroads. This was somewhere Winters had taken them—a long-abandoned forestry outpost tucked into a golden, sunlit valley far from the scorched battleground. Undiscoverable. Still.

She told everyone that Kira had to make up imaginary friends while she was in the woods just so she could cope with the loneliness. She had managed to convince every one with this story, except of course for Kira. She has been almost twelve years old when her mum had left her in-front of the church that night. The memory was so clear that it hurt, but mother had promised her that it was for the best, and even now in as much as it was different being here, she was sure now that her mother had been right all those years ago. And for that she missed her even more .

"Hmm, this is hard...I'm gonna choose owl city and before you exit. You?" "The 1975, Twenty-one pilots and owl city." "Song?" I asked. He paused to think then said, "Fireflies by owl city." I nodded in agreement...Hmm, he has a taste. "Mine is, I see fire by Ed Sheeran, Kill em with kindness by Selena Gomez, I won't give up by Jason Mraz, yeah plenty." Then I think about another question. "What is your favorite season?" "Winter." He said. I smiled, "Copycat. Mine is winter also." I said.

I never doubted for even a second that the two of them would always be there for me. Now as I stand on the same edge, just six months later, I am without them both. Wilder, because of a horrible twist of fate, was forever taken from me. Wyatt, though, he is gone from me and it's my own damn fault. Over the last two week, ever since Thanksgiving, it's been colder in my house than the December wind outside. I look down at the light dusting of snow, that is so rare in Alabama and I could almost believe it's a sign from Wilder. “You thinking about jumping?”

I decide to take a look out the window to distract myself. There are just rocks everywhere, people with serious faces and dark clothes. And it takes a while for me to see the first tree. It multiplies in the following meters, forming a type of forest. The air is even cooler here, although I can see ice everywhere. Mr. Tastaren told me of this; of this winter that the wolves brought and it never ends.

The wind howled through the narrow, snow-choked streets of Snowridge, as if warning anyone who dared to venture out into the deadly storm. Asha Frostheart, her face partially hidden beneath a fur-lined cloak, moved swiftly through the thick snowfall, her white wolf companion, Ghost, at her side. The blizzard's icy bite pierced through her layers of clothing, but her focus remained unbroken.

And after this rest, this deep breath of cool fresh air, we are ready for the sweet mischief of spring. Under a dove grey sky the colours of world don Jake's winter coats, each hue darker and richer than before as he looked on the path which sparkles and crunches, like sugar underfoot, and the coolness brings him right into the now, into the moment of life. Though the flowers sleep and the trees show their lofty arms once more, a smile plays upon these cold pink lips of his. For as much as he loved the summertime, he love the winter more. For every perfume of the meadow, there is the earthy loam of the newly-lit forest floor.