The plane was pure white, the snow fell like needles. Nothing was safe from winter’s cold touch. We had lost five men already, and we had barely entered the snowfields. The caravan was filled with supplies. We were back-up. Fifty strong soldiers ready to fight. 

I was the Cartwright of the group. I stood along the side of the wagons, checking to make sure nothing was under strain. And if something broke, I would fix it with the available supplies. At the beginning, I was all about aiding my country. But now, all I wanted was to go home. The day was not unlike a freezing winter’s night at the capital, but night here was a horrid beast that could swallow people whole without anyone noticing. Still, it was for the king!

No matter the amount of layers you wore, the snow would make its way in, and the wind would cut through. But it was for the king!

When we would rest around the campfire, I would unwrap my right leg, revealing the shade of blue covering my foot. I would warm my foot by the fire and let it sit on a propped up table as we chatted away the night. But it was for the king.

We were about halfway through our trek, when a blizzard hit. If you thought night was bitterly cold, the blizzard was numbing. The blizzards in the Silver Wastelands wasn’t just a snowstorm. Chunks of ice and freezing rain flew too. The wagons were our only safety, so everyone ran inside the cramped caravans. The sound of the ice hitting the metal roof was deafening. Louder than putting your ear right next to a firing cannon. But it was for the king. Right?

The draft animals were scared to death. You could hear them whimpering and yelping in pain. Hopefully their thick fur would keep them safe. The storm lasted fifty minutes before it passed. We all exited the wagons to find our tracks entirely erased. A total of three yaks had been killed by flying ice. They were all connected to one wagon, the food wagon. All of the wagons had been snowed in. The yaks had barely been able to pull them free, with the help from everyone else. But the food wagon was stuck. The yaks were non-transferable Cutting them loose meant leaving them to die, since there wasn’t any way to tie them back on.

It was ironic. All of the weapons needed to kill the enemy made it out fine, but the food in order to sustain the army and us was stuck indefinitely. I circled the wagon, my feet sinking into the snow that was who knows how deep. 

We were officially stuck, there was no way to turn back, and no way to continue forward without starving ourselves. We could only stay put and eat off of the five month’s worth of food, and we did. A total of one month of us hopelessly eating our way into our rations, knowing that once it runs out, we die.

It wasn’t uncommon to see people praying to the gods for help, and it only got more and more frequent that you’d notice someone mumbling a prayer. I did it too, not as much as most, but I did. The longer we waited, the more the wagon got buried. We eventually had to dig through the snow to eat. Luckily, the other wagons, our only shelter, were able to stay on top of the snow. Since we stayed put, we spent much less energy. Making our numbers only dwindle by one during that time.

Hope was lost at the end of the month. People barely talked because we had run out of things to say. And when we did, it was usually: “Screw the king! Screw this stupid wasteland!”

The days got colder as the sun started to set farther and farther into the south. We were lucky to not have been hit by another storm. But we were only a fifth into our rations, and more storms were sure to come.

I was standing watch when I felt myself get sleepy. I shut my eyes for only a moment, but ended up drifting off. I dreamt that I was in an endless field of flowers. The warmth of the sun was there, and I was laying on the grass. It was a pleasant dream, an escape from the icy torture of reality. But then a cold wind blew through the fields, turning everything into ice. A bright light flashed and a person appeared. 

No, not a person… A being. The being floated over to me. It wasn’t made of ice, but a crystal similar to it. A blue hue, but still white. It rested its chilling hand on my shoulder, and spoke one word: “Awake!”

And I did. I had been startled awake, adrenaline ran through my body. I had fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position. My right arm under my left, and my left on my halbert. Cutting off blood flow. I shifted my hand, and felt the tingling sensation of blood returning to my fingers. Then I saw the snow move before me. Not by the constantly blowing wind, it was too sudden and powerful for those gusts. It blew with purpose.

I tilted my head and got a closer look at it. I bent down, and inspected the place where the snow had blown. The snow had melted together, or more accurately, turned into ice. Magnificent crystals that could pass off as art in an auction house. It was beautiful. I brought my hand forward to pick up the ice shards before me. But as I moved it, the ice blew in the opposite direction. Making more of the frozen crystals.

I jumped back, startled by the movement. Looking around, I saw that there was no one there. No possible way that someone could be messing with me. So I bent down again. I stretched out my hand faster, but it still blew away. This time making larger and sharper crystals. Like the snow had stopped midair and welded together. Frustrated, I moved slowly bringing my hand forward again. But before I could touch the ice, I noticed something. My hand was sparkling. Like glitter had been sprinkled all over my hand. The tips of my fingers were as blue as the ice. 

I then thought of my foot. The blue that had creeped its way onto it. I cradled my hand, fearing the frostbite had already taken hold. But my other hand didn’t touch cold skin. My right hand was warm. I looked at my left, and realized it had the sparkle on it too. I moved my hands to get a better look at them, and I saw the snow move again. Then it finally clicked. I moved my hand with a sweeping motion, and watched in awe as the snow blew away.

I know not why, but I had the ability to move snow. I was certain it wasn’t there before too. Was I still dreaming? I thought. If so, my imagination impressed even myself, because everything was in such vivid detail. I could see each individual snowflake. Like the saying, see the forest for the trees. I was seeing the snowfield for the snowflakes!

I then knew this couldn’t be a dream. It was too real. I played with ice for a moment. Making amazing structures. They were small, but impressive. I could touch the snow without feeling any cold, I could bury my head under the snow and still breathe.  Whatever being that had visited me in my dream gave me this, and I wasn’t going to waste it by making sculptures. The question was, why me? It would have to wait anyway. We had to get out of here. I could stay fine, but everyone else in the caravan would die a cold and miserable death.

I turned to the buried wagon, its roof barely visible, and swished my hands in an outwards motion. The snow around the wagon blew away, revealing the old, wooden wagon. It now stood on a grassy floor below the snow. The green popped out against the bleak snow.

The people that saw what had happened, looked at me with both horror and wonder. I moved my hand again, and a path through the plane blew free of snow. There were cheers and awes. Some people started to cry in happiness. We were leaving this frozen hellscape. We marched away, out of the snow and ice. Hope returned to our minds, and energy to our soul. We were alive! And we were going home. But first, we had to finish the mission we started. For the king!