Into the freeze, they sat huddled in the carriage as it rolled among the swirling ice winds. All the world was white, save the black, trodden path and sleeping trees. They reached the largest, a black spire on the road, it's branches spiking up towards the pale heavens. Here they dismounted, they approached the trunk and lay their stiff hands upon it. The air quickened its pace, circling the tree and pulling them ever closer to the hard bark with every gust. They were pressed flush against it, and the warmth came. A stirring in the dead shell, a pooling glow of life awakening started to seep through.