He smiled up at the cold stars. They’d be waiting a long time. It had been nearly twenty years since he’d found the way to be at one with the winter storms; his affinity with the icestone. That’s what they called it, when they whispered about him, when they didn’t – safely far south – dismiss him as a shadow grown over-solid in the telling.
I really like this, it's just like a legend or a folk tale!
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I really like this, it's just like a legend or a folk tale!