Vetur, Sumar, Samanrenna

þrír

Spring and Autumn ran as fast as they could down the hall, desperate to get to Winter before something horrible happened.

Autumn didn't even want to imagine how Winter's room must be, nor how it would affect his best friend.

Winter was already distancing himself, both physically and emotionally.

He lags behind, taking his sweet time as he walks down the halls he called home.

He always had this thoughtful look in his eyes, almost lackluster. He was never truly present the last few months. He just had that pensive, fading look in his eyes.

Winter was even distancing himself from who he once was.

The only time he lagged behind before was to admire the halls, the ceilings, the décor, anything that caught his eye really.

Now, he seemed overly fascinated by his shoes or the carpet.

He was always talking before, but not in the annoying way that's often associated with the inability to stay quiet.

Autumn could barely remember what Winter's voice sounded like.

Now that he's speaking sparsely, his voice is always hoarse from lack of use.

Autumn shook his head. He needed to stop dwelling on the past, and focus on helping his best friend, who needed him right now.

As he and Spring turned the corner, a blast of freezing air slammed into them, nearly knocking them off their feet with its sheer force.

Autumn looked up and saw that the doors to Winter's room had flown open, letting the tumult of snow escape its cage.

Through the white, Autumn could make out Winter's dark form flying through the snow.

Winter collided with the wall, and dropped to the floor like a stone.

"Winter!" Autumn cried out, trying to work his way through the blizzard to get to him, Spring following him.

They both shivered in the icy storm, their progress getting progressively slower with each labored step.

Autumn knelt down when he reached Winter's unconscious body, gasping when he saw the pool of blood staining the pure white snow a deep scarlet.

"Winter!" Autumn yelled over the snow, lifting Winter's body into his arms. He put his hand over the gushing wound, his fingers becoming warm and sticky with Winter's blood. "Winter, wake up!" He yelled again, shaking the limp body.

Winter was unresponsive, the only sign of life was the wisps of fog curling from his bright blue lips.

"Autumn, we have to close the doors!" He heard Spring yell, though he couldn't see her through the furious ice.

"Winter's hurt!" Autumn argued. "We need to patch up his wound! He's losing a lot of blood,"

"The world will probably be destroyed if we don't get those doors closed!" Spring countered.

She sighed, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. Winter caused so much trouble. She was getting sick of it.

"You know what? Stay with Winter. I'll close the doors myself!"

"Spring, wait!" Autumn called, but she didn't respond.

Autumn sighed, muttering a curse under his breath.

Spring was the one who was good at healing things, not him. He was like an omen; a foreshadowing of the devastating winter.

He wanted to help Winter, but he didn't know what to do. All he knew is that he needed to staunch the bleeding, which was proving to be unsuccessful at the moment.