First Snow

It snowed today. It came fitfully and in a rage; it did not even want to come. It hid behind the rain for most of the day, and sulked in the clouds. But then it realized the inevitability of its fate. "Why," it thought, "should I stay up here? I am only going to fall anyways. At least on the ground I can rest." And so the snow spittled from the sky onto the ground, wind howling. There it melted and died.

The people begin to bundle up against the cold, against the snow. And they persevered over the conquered snow. Melted at their feet, the snow was dead. Soon, though, more would come. And the collective might of the powder would take its toll. The people will freeze in the cold.

And so the snow, defeated at first, conquers.
And the people, initially victorious, submit.

But what of the dead snow of the First Snow?
What of the fallen comrades of ice?

They are forgotten. They did not conquer.
- well then!