The cold winter was soon to come and it's bitter breeze was ready to strangle every last being that dared oppose it. Through the frisky window, near a warm fire, blew the white snowflakes of death's tears. A bird was seen outside, lying of the pale sleet, injured. The gush, of bittersweet blood, varnished the ice fields of Hyperion. The cardinal faded away in the depth of the blizzard, leaving the animal no chance of futil escape. A couple of hours later, the outraged tempest settled down to a restful sleep. The creature was out of sight, most likely grasped in the biting gust of winter.