Returning Summer

                                  Summer; Year X6123; Day 12

Ninety six years had passed since the death of Gisli. Summer was a distant memory, steadily being replaced with cold and snow.

The snow had yet to stop since that day.

Svipul found himself how he usually spent his days- under the dome of trees, creating shelter after shelter.

No matter how many times he attempted though, they never turned into anything more than a pile. 

The man sighed, leaning against a tree, head turned towards the sky. He could still remember when the last leaf fell.

He’d never cried as hard as he did that day.

Gisli was gone, but Svipul couldn’t let him go; even when his replacement had been born.

Svipul scowled. Kalda had come to him twenty years ago with news that the next Summer had been born, but he had wanted nothing to do with it. He may want this horrid winter to end, but the word ‘replacement’ caused his heart to clench and tears to form.

At that time, it didn’t really matter. They were to wait for the boy to awaken, so Svipul was able to push the thought far away.

The wretched boy, now a man, was brought to them two months ago. Vetrliði had laughed and promised him a quick death.

Svipul couldn’t go through this, not again.

In the end, his only solution was to spend his days under the dome, building shelters and reliving memories.

                                    Summer; Year X6123; Day 16

Freyr was out wandering when he stumbled upon a strange growth of trees that resembled a dome. A thick coat of snow layered the top, causing the branches to droop under the weight.

With a shrug of his shoulders, deciding he had nothing better to do, he approached the dome, walking through an entrance of sorts he found. There was a small clearing inside, surprisingly clear of snow.

What really caught Freyr’s attention though were the piles of branches that littered the ground. There were so many of them, some resembling what might be the start of a structure, while most just lay in heaps.

He didn’t notice the man until he spoke, an angry voice sounding from his right.

“What are you doing here?” Svipul seethed, body tensed and eyes swimming with rage. “You are not welcome here.” Freyr looked over, startled. Of all people, he had not expected to find the redhead here. He silently cursed his luck. The man had hated him the minute the minute Kalda brought him to where they lived. Full of bitterness and snide remarks, he had refused to speak, or even look, at Freyr since their first meeting.

“Err, I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “I was out walking when I came across this place. I merely wanted to see what it was.”

"Well, you’ve seen it, now leave.” Freyr ignored him, choosing instead to walk over to one of the piles.

“What are these?”

“Don’t touch them!” Svipul’s shout had Freyr’s hand freezing where it had been reaching out. “Don’t touch any of it. Just, don’t.” The blonde let his hand fall to his side, looking at Svipul curiously. Granted he hadn’t spent much time around the man, but he failed to notice the grief drowning him until now. His fiery red hair was disheveled, his eyes rimmed in red, and his hand was clutching around something hanging from his neck.