The Fifth Season

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

The Fifth Season
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Comments: Open
Summary: Just a little interpretation of an rp idea I had. I might write more, I might not. Just wanted to share.


Seriously, who lived all the way out here?

It genuinely made her mad to think about as she trudged through crisply layered snow, each booted step landing with a hollow, squeaking sound like breaking through sheets of Styrofoam. Nothing but white and grey wilderness surrounded her on all sides, even the sky was an ugly, dour ash color. The skyline was unfriendly, mountains craggy and protruding like massive broken shards of earth. Every time she walked through their shadows, she shivered. Not because they were imposing or anything but because it was damn fucking cold when the sun wasn't shining directly on her.

Wasn't the world hard enough right now? Yet Mr. Sad-About-Summer had to go the extra mile, shutting himself off from the world, making it that much more difficult to get in touch with him. Not for the first time, Maggie reconsidered her options, looking for the easier solution, something else she could do so that she wouldn't have to keep going. Her feet and thighs were killing her from forging a path through the snow. Even if it was thinner here, it was still pretty high and she had been marching, lifting her knees waist-high and clomping with Styrofoam-noises for almost three hours. Every time she thought she might just turn around, she remembered again what awaited her back in the old Summer town, Friendsville, and she released a bitter sigh and kept marching.

He wasn't the only one upset about the loss of the seasons. Everyone was having a rough time dealing. The Earth used to be divided by strict lines of demarcation between different temperature and weather zones: Winter, Fall, Summer, and Spring. Then one day, just out of the blue, where once there was four, there now was one: Winter. The Ghost Winter, as they called it.

The ice and snow and frigid temperatures that used to be restricted to the southernmost band had taken over the entire globe. Spring took the hardest hit, scrambling to harvest the crops that fed the rest of the world as frost, for the very first time, touched the leaves and stems of plants that had known only endless propagation for as long as anyone could remember.

Summer hadn't been prepared either. At least Fall and Spring were somewhat used to inclement weather and knew what a coat and hat were for. When the Ghost Winter hit, Maggie sincerely doubted anyone in Friendsville had ever seen ice that wasn't floating in someone's drink. The poor souls.

A brusque scratching sound echoed through the valley and Maggie stopped, jerking a tense look off to the southeast, her body still and muddy-violet eyes warily searching for the source of the disturbance. At least in Spring, they'd come to terms with the occasional chill before the Ghost Winter and she'd been fitted with thick coat and insulated pants, her head, face, and hands bundled up like a suit of armor against the cold. Other than the burn on her blushed cheeks, the only exposed part of her, she still barely felt the freezing temperatures out here during her long hike.

Braving the frigid temperatures now, Maggie pushed her hat up off of her eyebrows and mittened hands shoved the scarf off her thin, bow-like lips, to open her line of vision and see more clearly. Her body and eyes still as a block of ice, she scanned the glittering snow for any signs of movement, ears straining for any sounds while steam frothed the air in front of her with each puff of breath. She'd displaced some of her hair from her hat, dark brown strands sticking to her cheeks and forehead, anxiety changing them, filling the strands with neon orange color as if lit by fire from within. Then the light and color was gone when she was done glowering threateningly at the unknown in the scenery, finally turning to resume her trudging hike.

It was likely nothing. One thing they knew by now: the monsters only came out at night. Even still, as she continued to march, tucking her lips and hair back away, she couldn't help the nervous pattering of her heart as she walked through mountain shadows. It was day...but this was the wilderness and she was left wondering if it were still bright enough there to protect her from the other things the Ghost Winter had brought when it came.

Finally, she turned the bend in the trail and saw the souldamned cabin up ahead, a ragged growl of petulant triumph pulled out of her throat. It sat in a wide-spread clearing, smoke curling up from the chimney in a dark, slender finger stroking the sky, smelling of musty deadwood and coconut. It took another 5 minutes to cross the distance but Maggie had started to feel better already having found it and arrived at her destination.

Then...worry set in. There was nothing else around here other than the wooden structure on its platform. Where was the snow plow? They said he had one! That was why she'd come all the way out here! No way were they going to get out of the Sol mountain pass(incorrectly named now, since it was less sunny that it had once been) unless they had a vehicle that could push past the snow.

Either way, this was her last hope and Maggie refused to leave without getting this fecker to drive her out inside the cab of a hulking snow plow machine. They'd also said he was depressed, that he wouldn't help her but Maggie was done seeing obstacles. She was a solution-maker, souldammit!

With her resolve firmly in place, Maggie trudged up to the cabin steps, stomping up the old, creaky wood, mittens clutching the railings as she pulled herself up. And on the elevated porch that curved around the front and left side of the cabin...Maggie stopped. It wasn't fear that halted her this time but the view of the valley from this vantage. Her footprints cut a messy ridge through the otherwise untouched snow from the bend between the trees and all around the mountains bloomed like rocky petals from this centerpoint.

She bet it was beautiful out here when it had been warm. The way Summer was meant to be. And just to add insult to injury, chasing away those pretty daydreams, a churlish wind cut through, slicing across her exposed eyes and cheeks like a spiteful schoolmarm demanding that she focus. With a despondent sigh through her shoulders, Maggie turned from the wintery vista and finally approached the door to the cabin.

He must have been waiting. Had he seen her approach or had it been her heavy boots on the stairs? In any case, she got five rapid knocks in before the door was whipped open and a man stood before her, towering over her and full of defensive scorn. Maggie blinked dark lashes in mild surprise over his sudden appearance but brushed it off in determination.

"You Church?" she asked with a short jerk of her chin at him.

He arched a dark brow. "Me Church," he confirmed, mocking her. "You lost?"

Turned off by his antagonistic demeanor, she decided to go ahead and play the game. "No," she shook her head, pushing her scarf down then resting her mittened hand on her chest. "Me Maggie."

Something broke in his face and momentarily she was surprised again as he cracked a crooked grin, huffing a soft, impatiently amused breath at her. Wow. This guy really was from Summer. There was sunshine in his smile and Maggie felt her breath catch at the sudden warmth filling her just to see it. Then it was gone, like a heartbreaking eclipse, turned back into a condescending sneer, his dark beard and dark hair adding an element of savage gloom to the grim line of his lips. Something poisonous morphed into his expression as he rolled his eyes at her, all of his humor full of nihilism and a cutting edge filtering into his snarky tone.

"Alright then, Maggie, I'm glad we had this chat," he said in a smooth, softly rasping voice.

"Wait!" she shouted, reaching out to stop the door from closing. Thankfully, he was more curious than he was irritated and slowly opened it again with a listening cock of his head. "I was told that you know how to drive a snow plow?"

"Yes. And?"

"Well, I need... Wait, do you have it here?" He had her all discombobulated with that stupid, pretty smile of his, even for the brief appearance it'd made, so, she was asking things out of order. "I need it."

He gave her a look of stony consideration then sighed and reached into his jeans pocket. Then he pulled his hand out and offered it to her but when she reached and he opened his fingers, there was nothing. He lightly gasped when she blinked at him and suddenly her expression went flat as he tucked his hands back into his pockets. He was messing with her again! Dammit! What was this guy's issue?

"Does it look like I have a snow plow?" Church asked with a snide note to his voice.

"I thought you were giving me keys," she defended then scoffed and shook her head. "Nevermind, listen, I need you to come with me. I need a plow-driver. I'm sure we can borrow one--"

"There's nothing for you here."

"I need to leave Summer!"

"Lucky you; Summer's gone, kid."

"I'm not a kid!" she sneered, hotly insulted. "I'm 22 years old! I'm a fucking woman, you ass!" Okay, she was 5'7" but she didn't look young! What the hell?

"Sorry, did I offend you?" he purred glibly.

"Look--Hey!"

She didn't get a chance to say anything to stop him as the door swung closed, slamming solidly in her face. For a second all she could do was gape and glare, too shocked as she realized she'd hiked 8 miles through wilderness and snow for this bullshit. Then a hideous growl grated out of her throat and she set upon the barrier with her fists and booted feet, pummeling it as a surrogate for his stupid, glum face.

"You're a ridiculous human being!" she shouted, puffs of steaming breath ghosting the air in front of her in her exertion.

Okay, new plan. Obviously, she'd buried the lead a little bit. She should have taken into account the fact that the depressed hermit wasn't going to ask questions, nor was he going to be gung-ho for work or even better, a possible adventure. She'd have to get him where it affected him and he'd already given her a clue.

Leaning close to the door, she released a sigh and called through the wood, "I know how to bring Summer back! I think I know what happened to the seasons!"

---

A snort of amusement came out of him as he heard her shriek like a banshee, thumping his door with a vehemence that made him glad for the sturdiness of the wood. Ridiculous human, huh? Served her right for invading his peace and quiet like that. Did she think he'd came out here just as a weekend getaway? Then Church frowned with a heavy gloom as he remembered what real weekend getaways were like. Sunny fishing trips, camping in the woods, bouncing on the river over the wild rapids, and basking on a sunny beach, rubbing sunblock into the tanned shoulders of a hot beauty with three triangles barely covering her modesty.

Happiness, fun, and sunshine. Not this miserable bullshit. He was born in Summer, made to bask in the sunlight, to live and breath the warm air; his heartbreak was poignant and sharp now, consuming everything about life until he despised every part of it. Nothing and no one could make him happy in this...frigid desert of despair and frozen decay. Without the warmth, without the greenery, what was the point? As he turned back to his cozy, self-selected coffin, Church was almost too busy sulking to realize that the pounding and noise at the door had stopped.

"I know how to bring Summer back! I think I know what happened to the seasons!"

No she didn't. Who the fuck was she, even? Just some girl--oh, pardon, a woman. Excuse him for not getting that at first, what with her inability to articulate what she was here for until she'd thrown a tantrum and sat in timeout for a moment. It would be dishonest to say that he wasn't at least somewhat grateful for the distraction.

The door jerked open and the gal stepped back with a startled flinch, blinking violet-brown eyes up at him. "What do you mean 'you think'?" Church snapped with a narrowed gaze. "What is it you think you know?"

"Do you really not have a snow plow?" Whatever temerity had caught her when he opened the door had vanished and Maggie now seemed cocky and incredulous. The fist on her hip said she was all business but Church sensed some bravado at play here. "They said you had one."

"Oh, my mistake," he huffed a derisive laugh. "I thought you were ready to have a real conversation."

He didn't wait for her bluster this time before slamming the door in her face again. Wow, he hadn't expected it to be as satisfying as the first time but hearing her sigh and the scuff of her boots on the other side as she shifted in place, had another small smirk crawling quickly over his features. Aw, was she annoyed? Not enough to leave yet, he hoped. After all, she had come alll-this-way.

Church didn't turn towards the fireplace and loveseat this time, instead, waiting right in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. In just a few seconds, he was rewarded. "Have you heard of the pneuma stones?" Maggie called through the door, a hopeful note in her tone.

A triumphant, smug grin twitched on his lips as he reopened the door but he didn't have long to celebrate.

"You aren't really going to shut me out are you?" Maggie asked and instantly, Church released a beleaguered sigh. "It's cold out here and in a few hours, it'll be dark."

Boo-hoo. If she came here looking for a good man, she was seriously delusional. She was probably that anyway, actually. "Door's open now," Church huffed impatiently, arching dark eyebrows at her. "That's your cue to start talking about what caught my attention and nothing else. Go."

"Can I at least come inside?"

"On second thought, maybe I can hear you better through the door. You only seem to say interesting things when it's between us."

He was going to do it, he'd even stepped back to give room to swing the door closed again, a little thrill tickling inside him in anticipation of the satisfying slam and her reaction. But then he caught a look at her face and froze. Her expression was...tired. And there was a vulnerable poutiness to her lips and puckered brows, like he was cutting into her hope with every slam of the wooden barrier.

Souldammit. He was a big softie. With a roll of his eyes and a weary expulsion of breath through his nostrils, Church finally put an end to their silly game and stepped back with the door, angling out of the way for her. He almost changed his mind as she hesitated, giving him a wary appraisal but she was quick enough to take the offered kindness, stepping past the threshold in clomping boots. Church closed the door behind her, frowning slightly as snowy footprints immediately damped his socks.

He felt self-conscious as she inspected his space, the first room a single rectangular area with crackling fireplace against the left-hand wall. A snug loveseat sat in front of it at an angle, clearly a "napping spot", piled unevenly with several, messy blankets. The kitchen was a stovetop, sink, and a few cabinets on the opposite wall, and a short hallway across from the door led off to a more formal bedroom and bathroom. Now that she was in here, looking like a helpless traveler let in from the cold, he'd lost some of his defensive bite.

It didn't seem as urgent anymore to twist her arm and bully her into talking whatever nonsense had driven her to needing his plow-driving skills so badly. So, it was Maggie who broke the silence once she was done looking around the limited space. "Do you have a bathroom?"

"Down the hall, door on the left."

She was gone only a couple minutes, long enough for him to fold up the blankets and make space enough for her to sit. Stepping out of the short hallway, Maggie had removed her hat, scarf, and gloves. Without that thick wooly cap on her head, and her chin and neck clear of fabric, she no longer looked like a teenager being swallowed by her bulky clothes. Her shoulder-length brown hair was thick and wavy, tucked back into a neat ponytail, whisps falling around her face, and there was a very adult confidence to the set of her shoulders. She was still short though.

Re-entering the room, she rubbed her slender hands together, watching him with interest as she weaved towards the waiting fireplace to warm her fingers. Church was considering offering her something to drink, struggling to be at least moderately accommodating before he started badgering her to talk, when she spoke up on her own.

"I assume you know what they are...the pneuma," she said with her back to him, still warming her hands. "That's why you let me in?"

"Yes. I know what the spirit stones are," Church said. "That's not why I let you in."

Maggie whipped her head around to look at him with a question in her eyes, a sudden flash of neon light shimmering through her hair, turning it gold and orange like the fire beside her. He registered the shifting change with a lift of his brows, only mildly surprised to learn that she was an Autumnal, and only vaguely threatened by the magic that hummed in the air around her.

A mellow ease filled him and a soft curve touched the edges of his lips as he shrugged and smoothly explained, "It's cold outside. And it'll be dark soon."

After only a second's pause, Maggie's chin jutted out in amusement as she quietly turned back to the fire, her hair softening back to the dark, earthy brown color.

When she started to tell her story, for the longest time, she kept her back to him, facing the flames. Church couldn't tell if it was to warm herself further or if she was still feeling guarded towards him. In the end, she ended up sitting on the loveseat, glancing at him occasionally as she warmed into the tale. And with the shift in her demeanor, Church switched places with her, becoming more guarded, more divided.

Pneuma, or spirit stones, were old relics from the ancient religion, left behind in sacred places all over the earth. There were 3 that they knew of, each placed on the border between the 4 countries, tucked away in forgotten forests and abandoned mountain passes. They were just ritual stones used by clerics from the long since abandoned beliefs and yet here she was, describing a corrupting event that she believed had affected the whole planet.

"Tell me again what this...thing did," Church huffed softly.

"It was a shadow," Maggie said patiently. "It touched the stones in each of the borderlands, turning them so they faced south."

"South. Towards Winter."

"Yes."

Agitated, he rubbed a hand over his face. "And...you say you saw this in a dream?" Church clarified, his voice full of doubt.

"A vision, yes. It's part of my training."

"So, what, if this is true, and not some fevered hallucination you had while on whatever toxic roots and drugs they have you take, there in the Last Harvest city," she scoffed and folded her lips inward, insulted by his skepticism. "What are you saying? We need to turn them back the right way or something?"

Her answer was halted as a chilling wail rent through the air from somewhere in the valley outside. At some point, sunset had come and gone, leaving the sky full of ink encroaching upon purple lighted stains of twilight beyond the mountains. The screams continued and immediately Maggie's hair lit up from within each strand, glowing the orange of baleful embers.

"Someone's in trouble! We have to help!" she shouted, rushing to yank open his front door.

Church was there in a flash to block her way, holding it closed as he asked, "Did you come out here with somebody?"

"No."

"Then I sincerely doubt that's a person, Maggie!" he said with a graveled sigh. "Even if it is, they're not a friend of ours, not our problem!"

The curled lip of disgust she shot at him actually made him flinch slightly, giving her enough of an opening to wrench the door open. Then she was thundering down the cabin steps, a little star rushing off into the darkness, with her lighted hair and floppy ponytail bouncing. Church muttered an ugly word under his breath, tried to muster the same edge of callousness that he'd had for the desperate screams in the night but failed miserably. With another growled expletive, he turned to grab his boots, shoving his feet into them.

"Hello!? Hello!?" Maggie shouted, her panted breath fogging the air as she ran in the direction of the screaming voice. At first, it had sounded like an old woman but now that she was on the wooded path, the source growing closer, it sounded like the pained and panicked cries of a child.

"Where are you!?" Maggie called, her rapid heartbeat keeping her hair alight, even now that she was no longer certain of her ability to face whatever danger might be lurking here.

Despite whatever Church thought, she wasn't an idiot. It wasn't unheard of for the creatures to use bait to lure prey to them, the monsters at least intelligent enough for that. Maggie simply wasn't willing to sit huddled by a warm fire, safe with that jerk, while they listened to the tortured, dying screams of some poor soul out here. If they had lungs enough to scream like that, they could be saved. And that's why she'd taken this task upon herself in the first place: to save people.

She was getting closer now, her eyes searching the shadows in the trees both for the hideous predators that lurked in the night and for any sign of the wounded traveler. Then she spotted them, the circle of light cast by her hair falling upon its form.

" Mommy! Mommy! "

A child's voice....something off about it. The huddled figure had its back to her and even though the gangly form and ridged spine clued her in that this was not the helpless victim she sought, Maggie couldn't help but move closer for a better look. She froze as it slowly began to turn around, balding head lifting, her lighted hair casting such a bright sheen on the snowy ground, it must have been white like smelted iron. She was hyperventilating now as it faced her, dead black eyes, soulless like deep sea fish as they caught the light, thousands of teeth like carrion stained needles opening slightly in avarice. From the hollow depths of its slender throat, echoed cries emerged...tainted, distorted...a parody of desperate words.

A sudden roar lanced through the night, growing in depth as it drew closer, a hulking mass bursting across the snowy wooded path. The demon fled, spooked by the thundering engine and towering machinery that hissed and grumbled, Maggie casting a double shadow against the trees from the powerful lamps mounted on the front of the vehicle. It took a moment for Maggie to register, the curved band on the front with piles of snow caught in its maw, the heavy, thick tread on the wheels, and the knobs and gaskets of heavy duty machinery. And then there was Church behind the wheel of the grumbling giant, opening his door to lean out.

"Maggie! Get in!" Church shouted. "They'll be back!" As if on cue, a chorus of wails like the tormented souls in hell crying out, sounded from the dark woods around them.

"You do have a snow plow????" she shouted in incensed accusation.

"Souldammit, Maggie!" Church growled impatiently. "Get your ass in the truck!"