One hundred hearts.
One hundred and one with his own.

The prince turned his head upwards.

"Are you out there Paris..."
he tossed his head in surprise as cold touched his nose.

Soft fluttering flakes of snow, melting gently down from the tines which held his hearts.

Cold and so familiar.

But the sun still shone...

He reared up, standing swiftly, a wet thud sounding as one of the clumps of beating flesh fell to the ground.

He watched in a mix of shock and horror as it slowly pulsed and sputtered, ice trickling up along the edges, until it was a faint blue colour, and at last it crumbled.

He lay again, pressing his nose to the chilling pile of snow.

A soft breath left him, sending the snow fluttering.

How strange...

The bloodied stag shifted his weight within his patch of gore and ferns.

But nothing he could be bothered with at the moment.

ninety nine.
One hundred with his own.

--------------

I've had a plot going for Vilnius for some time, I've only recently actually started putting it into affect.
This plot could end a lot of ways.
No I will not give anyone spoilers....*cough*JORO*cough*....