The first of the winter frost clung to the trees as Anaheld walked under the looming branches, carrying firewood in her arms. Little drifts of snowflakes danced around her and her breath clouded in the frigid air.
There came a soft sound from the dark trees and Anaheld turned to see a beautiful woman, pale as ivory, hair like spun silver, eyes like bottled lightning. For a moment, the two looked at each other and Anaheld thought she had never seen a sight so fair.
The woman bolted like a startled deer. All thoughts of cold winter nights forgotten, Anaheld dropped her firewood and raced into the mass of snow-covered trees.
How long she ran she didn’t know. She raced on and on, down winding paths and under the shadows of great trees. Always around the corner or deep in the black, she would see the fleeting shape of the woman, and find to the strength to go further and further.
Some say that Anaheld still runs after her frost maiden, lost in the chase in the heart of the forest.
But others say perhaps she found her after all and together they dwell in that wintry wood.
Word Count: 198
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction!
(I’ve missed a few challenges this week due to some technical problems with my laptop. It’s hopefully sorted out, but I might still be having some issues next week.)