A/N: An excercise of word play rather than actually making enough sense. Written long ago and edited only recently. It's my first serious and accomplished attempt at first person POV. Be nice.

I am walking. The wind is a wolf that howled through the paper white, void-empty moors. On my line of vision there are only this black and white and the red. The red is your blood that is your life, which even I, a magus of time cannot stop from its hasty flow. The red, that is which, is you.

The howl is no music to my ears. As I carry your shell with my thin arms through the frozen cold, I feel the weight of desperation. Though I am grateful for the company as your blood that is which, is you, flows and slips away. At the very least there is comfort in knowing that both of us are not alone.

The howl is no music to my ears, but I thought, neither will be the silence. What a feeling it is to be betrayed, to suddenly find yourself alone and desolate after finding familiarity in the warmth of brotherhood. At least in there is comfort in the howl, where there is none with the abandonment of silence.

Cold, wet snow starts to fall in rhythm to the wind, blurring my vision and subjecting me and you to frigid, merciless claws. It is painfully cold, but I will not fail you or myself. I could not, not like this.

Now I am staggering; I find my only fuel to be what little strength and will that I had not left with each drop the red, that is which, is you. I could not seem to tear my thoughts away from the way it dripped and trailed the pristine, hateful white. Will you leave me alone in this frigid world? Or have you already? I could not tell.

I summon the a little strength, finding that door within me and drew a little thread of magick with my thoughts to my fingers. I lay them onto you with a little affection and the drops red that is which, is escaping you slows to a snail's pace. My time magick, far from perfect; still I know it can help you.

I stand, the howling pushes me back, but I move forward. As I did, I saw shelter in a yawning cave of void-black. Drawing just a little more magick to quicken myself and the howls and the winds were nothing but distant sounds. I stumble, exhausted and freezing as I arrived. The thuds of our bodies echoed through the darkness. Weary of our difficult travel, I had only the strength to pull us to hide in the dark before I rested.

On your chest, I rested, listening to the calm beating of your heart. It comforts me, to know that you have not left. I call your name, Zhevan and held you close to me.

I close my eyes but I could still feel the red that is which, is you still trickling down even to my skin. And so, with the last of my strength, I healed your cuts and your wounds, pulled you close to me, our own warmth and the few threads of magick I've left to keep us alive through the gelid winds. And I sleep, the scent of the red that is which, is you, filling my senses.