The Ice King's Ascension

There was once in a land a little to the North and much to the East, not of here but in general, a man walking through the forest. He had a pack on his back, no doubt filled with many useful things, and he strode with a purpose. His boots made no sound when they landed other than a muffled crunch when they broke through an older layer of snow.

He had been marching on for an indeterminate amount of time when he came upon a woman trekking along in a similar fashion, although her pack had less of value in it, and she had more difficulty lifting her feet above the drifts, her legs being considerably shorter.

She was a young woman, and her hair was quite long and dark, although it matters little what she looked like. The Man was older by an incalculable amount, but his beard was less than half as long as his father's, and it hadn't any grey in it.

The Man heard the Woman before she noticed him, having experience listening for things coming from a long way off. She had to nearly walk straight into him before she noticed him. He gave her quite a surprise.

The Woman quickly regained her composure. She was a hardy, adaptive person. She hadn't seen anyone in the woods for quite a while, and the wind began to sting her face. She wasn't lost, she could always track herself back, after all, but it was nice to see another person nonetheless.

"Hello," he said, and when he said it she responded in kind. He smiled quite pleasantly.

"'Tis rather cold, isn't it," he suggested politely.

"It's quite nice," she said, and it was, although she couldn't deny the temperature.

"Where are you going?" he asked. Now ordinarily it isn't wise to answer such a question to someone you just met, and predictably she refused to do so at first. It was rather more from embarrassment than prudence. She never knew to fear people.

"I'm just walking," she said.

The Man knew it was not quite true. He had seen many a person in his woods with that same look she had. She was searching, he could tell from the way she plowed between the trees with reckless purpose.

He hesitated before saying "shouldn't you be heading home," since it was hardly past noon, and she could do whatever she liked.

She wouldn't go home just yet.

"If you tell me what it is you're looking for, perhaps I'll know where to find it," he said. He had never seen anyone stumble so close before, and he wanted to help, he truly did. Only he wouldn't help the way she wanted.

The young woman scoffed at that, but he looked like the sort of stranger who might know.

"I'm looking for a place I've been to before," she said. "It's a wood rather like this one but bigger."

"Have you been there?" he asked.

"No," she said, "But I've heard of it many times, and I think before I've almost been there."

"I know where you mean," he said.

"Do you?" she asked, trying to hide her eagerness. "Is it real?"

"Everything you can speak of is real," he said, "anything that can bring you joy or pain, but especially pain, is real. Do you mean if the stories are true?"

Whilst speaking they had begun walking in the same direction, she leading. "Are the stories true?" she asked impatiently.

"Which have you been told?" he asked. He tried to sway the path she walked to another direction, gradually, but she was oblivious, and he sighed and followed her straight ahead.