"It's very pretty," says Plumeria to herself.

The snow swirls down, and the Forest is muffled by it, and the world is quiet. Somewhere there is a slight thump; a bough heavy with white has let fall its burden onto the ground.
Plume shivers; so do the violets. The snow is cold, as would be expected, but it's not a death kind of cold, it's a lively kind of cold, so it's not as bad. The violets are hardy, and they will make it through the winter.
Plume looks up at the never-ending spinning flakes head toward her face. They cling to her eyelashes and kiss her goodbye before they melt into little ice-cold droplets that run down her face.
She watches the white world slowly turn whiter from her little spot within the violets, near the golden mushroom circlet. She takes a delicate hoof out from under her and draws a faint heart in the snow, and watches white flakes slowly cover it up.

Somewhere, far away, there's pounding hoofbeats and some cries of joy, and she sees silhouettes of deer in the distance, running in the snow. A sigh escapes from her in a puff of frosted breath; she only wishes there was a deer to sit with her and watch the beautiful landscape with her now, but no one ever seemed to notice her. The violets were always with her, yes, but they didn't like to talk in the cold.

"I'm lonely..." she says quietly to herself. There isn't anyone else to talk to.

~~~

Olive rears up and cracks his hooves against the ice; it shatters and a hole just big enough for him to drink from lies open, the clear water lapping at the edges of the ice. He dips his head and drinks the icy water, sip by sip, careful not to freeze his tongue. It is cold but refreshing, for a moment dulling the aching pain in his chest.
The orange stag trudges through the snow, occasionally stumbling, his eyes glazed. He has not seen Nina since some weeks ago, and he feels terrible. The brown, wilted poppies in his antlers clearly express that.

He sees a nameless stag standing in the snow. He trots up, eager for any company. He always seemed to be alone, now.
To his disappointment, the stag suddenly lies down and fades. He stands over the slowly disappearing form, blinking dully in the purple smoke that shrouds his face, and turns around and leaves.
Not quite sure of where he's going, he lowers his eyelids and daydreams. Her nuzzles, her smiles, her kisses... He relives the wonderful moments that are the only warm things in the cold, cold world.
He trips, and falls. He picks himself up slowly, shaking off powdery snow, and stares at the dark root sticking up out of the ground. He turns to go when a terrible whisper finds its way to his mind. Maybe she left you, it growls, maybe she doesn't love you. Maybe she never did. And the whisper goes on and on, twining and twisting, every terrible word throbbing through his head, and it curses and insults and says so many terrible things...

Olive's face contorts and he spins around to face the dark looming shadow of the black tree before him. He snarls and runs forward to smash his antlers against the cursed bark, but he runs through in a puff of blue, and the twisted laughter echoes on and on.
He has never been very strong and fear takes over his actions. He turns and flees, sobbing, away from the tree, away from its words. More than ever he feels alone in this cold, cold world.

"I need you, Nina," he cries bitterly.

~~~

Plumeria looks up as a familiar scent enters the air. She sees her brother slowly make his way to her side and slump down, exhausted. His face is tired, and terribly empty; he stares blankly out at the snow.
"What happened?"
"You don't want to know, Plume."
She tilts her head, but is silent. Usually she would ask, she was naturally curious, but now... What was the point?
"It's... it's very cold, isn't it?" she ventures.
He glances at her and sees her shiver a little; he comes closer to warm her up. She snuggles into his thick orange fur, and again he notices how thin she is.
"I'm hungry," she mutters.
Olive snorts. "You should be! You haven't been eating properly for the past weeks. It's winter, you know!"
But secretly, he is glad; this is the first time for her to say from herself that she is hungry. He struggles up with a little sigh, gives her a nuzzle, and walks off to find some toadstools.

Maybe he wasn't quite alone, after all.

~~~

I was bored. x3

(edit: bumping 'cuz it would be nice to have a few more comments... but maybe I'm just being selfish...)