A Court of Snow and Storms

1. Numb Feelings

The artwork above is not mine.

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    A cold breeze lifted locks of snowy white hair from Wynter's face, blowing them over his shoulder. He dug his pitchfork into a bale of hay and unwrapped a length of cloth from his wrist. Wynter tugged his hair back into a ponytail and fastened it, then resumed working.

    A whiskered chin nuzzled the back of his neck. Wynter sighed and pet the muzzle of his Ursa stallion. "I can't get anything done with you around, can I?" He asked, a note of amusement in his voice. "Let me finish with your stall, and then I'll brush you down." The stallion's nostrils flared, his breath misting in the frigid air. "Don't take that tone with me, Bruma."

    Wynter moved out of the horse's reach and kept working, pitching old and dirty hay out of Bruma's stall. When the floor was clean, he unbound the new bale of hay and began spreading it out. In all actuality, he didn't need to be doing this work. He could hire a stable hand if he wanted to. But that was the point. He didn't want to. He wanted to do it himself.

    Work kept him busy and occupied his mind with other things, distracting him from the memories that haunted his every step. Besides, it would be hard to find a stable hand that knew anything about horses. High Fae rarely owned horses. Wynter only knew of two High Lords who regularly rode them. Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn, and Tamlin, High Lord of Spring.

    Horses were exceedingly rare in the Winter Court, due to its icy snow covered terrain. Most of the Court's denizens chose to ride in sleighs or sledges pulled by velvet antlered reindeer. They were bred to withstand and overcome the challenging climate and terrain of the Winter Court.

    Wynter admired the reindeer, but he preferred the solidity of Ursa horses. This specific breed of horse had developed on their own in the Winter Court around the time it was first established, according to the research Wynter had done on them.

    Their fur was thick, keeping their bodies insulated against the cold weather. They required less water than ordinary horses, but ate a great deal more than them. The bottom of an Ursa's hoof was ridged and almost spiky, helping them grip icy ground.

    These horses were also massive. Bruma's back stood level with Wynter's head, and Wynter himself was an even six feet in height. He pitied anyone who angered an Ursa and found themselves trampled beneath hooves larger than his palms pressed side by side. That was very unlikely to happen though. Ursas were as gentle as they were giant, unlike their namesakes. Ursa horses were named after the great white bears that roamed the Winter Court. They were ferocious, and Ursas were not.

    Wynter wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He set his pitchfork aside and grabbed one of Bruma's many brushes. The stallion stomped a feathered hoof impatiently, the long tufts of fur tickling Wynter's boot. He chuckled and began running the brush over Bruma's thick, dappled white coat. His skin quivered beneath Wynter's touch.

    He smiled to himself, pressing his cheek against the horse's back. It was nice, being able to touch something without his skin crawling and feeling sick to his stomach. He only seemed to have that problem when it came to people. Furry hides never caused him alarm. That was one reason why he spent so much time with Bruma.

    Wynter didn't lift his head, but continued brushing Bruma's flanks. The stallion stood calmly. He was so warm compared to Wynter. Like everyone who hailed from the Winter Court, Wynter's body temperature was lower than that of most Fae and Mortals. It was why he could stand outside in freezing temperatures in only a thin shirt and not feel the slightest hint of discomfort. Bruma's warmth allowed him to do the same, unless the temperatures dropped to extreme levels.