fresh--

The worst of winter had already subsided a few days ago. A man, just barely in his twenties, trekked through the snow-topped rocks of the forest floor. His nose caught the calming scent of trees mixed with the rusty metallic taste of the old mansionette that loomed behind him. He sniffled, and worried yet again about the little pink bundle of coats that was 9 steps ahead of him.

"Finally! Uncle Eli, you're reaaaaally slow," a vibrant voice resonated to his ears.

The man just smiled, handing his niece a scarf that matched her outfit. The little chubbs wrinkled her nose in refusal and asked instead, "Can I play?"

Too tired to argue, he nodded his head slightly. She squealed and ran off to disturb some squirrels that seemed to have recently appeared.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drown in his thoughts, succumbing to the feeling of numbness. From the cold. From his brother's recent death. His eyes flew open. He shivered yet again.

Looking ahead at the daffodils blooming at the tiny person's feet and roses tinting her delicate cheeks, he wonders if he'll ever value spring as much as he values it now.

Sometime later, she ran up to him and stretched her arms. Sighing softly, he scooped her up.

"Do you think Mum and Dad are happy up there?" she asks, twisting herself so she could see the big white sphere climb over the mountains.

"I guess so."