Sister Winter

As a child, he remembered hearing fictional tales of beautiful women who embodied the seasons which would come and go as they please; the women awakening with the season and going back to slumber as their time came to an end. His mother had told him about Spring, how she’d happily bound around the forest, rabbits on her heels as flowers blossomed in her wake; the way she’d sing with the birds and dance away the cold with the warming sun. Then, as her time came to an end, she’d trade places with her sister Summer, who would finish blooming what her sister had awaken; she’d breathe life into the grass, the flowers, the trees and how deer would kneel in her presence. Like her Spring, Summer would soon turn into Autumn, a woman who would climb the trees and shake the leaves free and give ripened fruit and vegetables to the people and the animals alike, filling their bellies full.

He loved hearing about the three sisters, always enjoyed the warmth and life they brought; though he could never come to care for the last of the four, Winter. Though his mother told him she was just as important as the others, he always pictured her as a wicked old woman who scorned the land with blankets of freezing ice and pillows of snow; he’d imagine her sucking the life from the trees and the flowers, stealing their beauty out of jealousy and anger towards her sisters and their natural beauty as her own wretched appearance scarred the creatures and the insects till she once more fell into Spring.

Though he believed that as a child, he was much older now and such fictional stories were just whimsical stories now; now that he knew what caused the seasons. Women didn’t dance away the seasons, a band of sisters didn’t give the land fertility or carry the wind in their hair; while trained kunoichi might, four strange sisters did not. Those stories were only fiction; at least that’s what he believed.

The morning was graced in a warm autumn wind which seemed to sweep along the leaves which cluttered the ground aside, allowing for the shinobi to silently make his way through the thicket; mind focused on the hunt for new and intriguing specimens which to add to his collection. With autumn came the spring of wild fruit, some scarce pieces left by another animal open for insects of all kinds to crawl and feast upon before their time came to an end; a perfect time for foraging for new and old species.

Shino remained on the outskirts of the village; out farther than he had the previous morning and the morning before that; his beetles crawling freely all around as they kept him informed of any other creature which appear. He’d left the Aburame compound early around dawn, the dew still sticking to the turning leaves and clinging to the grass, having no missions or plans to keep the chuunin busy. He had resigned to keep his day simple, filled with adding new specimens, a bit of light training, either on his own or along with his team, and then perhaps later that night he’d go back to the forest and examine the lightning bugs which would glitter and shine like stars; a simple day in the mind of the insect using shinobi.

The sun filtered through the thick foliage over head, dappling the ground in a morning daze, lighting a path the Aburame seemed enticed to follow; some flighty fancy he was indulging in as he allowed his feet to carry him one sun spot after another. His beetles buzzed gently under his flesh and around his ears, some flying from branch to branch as they followed closely around their master, some flying ahead and enticing him even more; drawing him somewhere for an unknown reason. As he walked he made little noise, the birds chirping over head covering his movements in their sweet songs. He brushed aside a stray branch with ease, stepping out of the forest thicket and into a patch of clearing; the tall grass swaying alongside the scattered blossoms which coloured the pale green grass.

His eyes surveyed the area, figuring very few would wander so far from the village and find such a hidden field, only to be proven wrong; his posture going gently rigid as he took in the sight which was nestled softly in the sea of grass and flowers. There was a young woman, he speculated around his own age, sitting comfortably within the flora; a girl who seemed to bring about the whimsical childlike fiction which his mother had once spoke so fondly of.

Adorned on her head was a crown of flowers of vivid purples and pinks, giving her long trail of snow white lace a stark contrast. She was dressed in furs of white which hemmed the blue material which draped over her shoulder and grazed the crook of her arms; most of her outfit obscured in the foliage which created a circle around her. All around her small songbirds chirped and hopped, some on her shoulders and others on her legs or the ground around her, all seemingly consumed in her appearance. Her hands, busily working to twist and thread a single flower into another, smaller crown, were milky white and seemed almost blinding in the morning light; he watched curiously as she placed the smaller crown on one of the birds heads, her laugh soft and resonating with the pleasant song the bird sang in gratitude for the single flower crown.

The first thought which came to his mind, one which was soon pushed away just as quickly as it came, was that he had come upon sister Winter; the woman he had always believed nothing but scornful and ugly against the beauty of her other sisters. Except, unlike his childish mind, she was not ugly, nor did her smile seem scornful or jealous; she looked gentle, almost solemn as she sat with her feathery companions. Like his mothers fantasy had come to life, he expected her to breath the life from the birds and that if she simply flipped her hair, the field would be consumed in winter winds; yet, as he watched, her hands brushing over the many flowers which surrounded her, her smile widening as she seemed so enticed by their beauty, by their life. It was fascinating.

He would not risk moving closer; rather he sent a small handful of his beetles to explore more into this mysterious woman of winter. He stayed back in the shadows of the forest, barely visible, and watched the few beetles take flight towards her; his eyes narrowing as he waited for the predictable reaction woman always gave; the startled and disgusted looks which plagued their face as such tiny creatures would flutter about or land with no intention of causing harm, yet, woman always seemed to screech or cry out for another to kill the insect; something which never set well with the Aburame.

Her attention peaked slightly, her gaze turning as one of the small beetles took rest on her shoulder; Shino awaited her reaction. Another landed on her crown, unnoticed by the white haired girl, though she seemed more preoccupied with the one on her shoulder; a small smile coming to her lips as she seemed to try and speak to the beetle, a reaction he hadn’t expected. She held out a finger to the bug, allowing it to crawl onto her slender limb and bringing it to her eyes as she examined and smile welcomingly towards the beetle; no show of fear or disgust. He was somewhat surprised and would have been intrigued to hear what his beetle would have relayed back to him once it departed, but somehow he’d created some sound which caught her attention; he believed it was one of the many birds which gathered around which had spotted him, informing her diligently.

Her body twisted, hair folding over her shoulder and revealing the straight fringe which brushed over her almond shaped, glacier hues; eyes wide as she realized she’d been seen. She scrambled to her feet, birds scattering around her and taking off into the forest as she quickly did the same; hair trailing down her back and a chilling breeze brushing at the shinobi’s back as he stepped from the shadows in hope of catching her before she vanished. She had moved faster, disappearing into the thick darkness of the forest, leaving the field of flowers and the crown which had once been atop her head in her wake; he had been disappointed, saddened that he hadn’t the chance to truly see the woman, but as he neared the patch where she had sat, he began to believe his childish fiction might have been more truth than he believed.

The flowers which had sat atop her crown had been abandoned, a thin layer of ice coating the petals and rendering them stiff and brittle; the once swaying grass and stray flowers glittering in premature frost and small crystals of ice. He sighed gently, setting the crown down among the frozen flora as he called back the beetles which he had sent out moments before. While most of them returned, some shaking off the frost while others struggled to walk as their legs had been caught in the ice, he noticed one was missing; the one which had crawled onto her finger and had gotten the closest to the girl. Looking up at where she had bounded off, like a scared doe, he narrowed his eyes, curious if he’d be able to hunt for his missing insect and for the girl; the beetle had been a female, but he wondered if the males would be able to follow the trail.

Rising to his feet, he turned back towards where he had come, deciding to simply push the young woman from his mind and continue about his day; perhaps if luck found him, he’d come upon the sister of winter again.