Grief hated the cold. It clung to his skin like a cold burn, often leaving behind a numbness he would struggle to overcome for weeks after. He wasn't built for it. He was made for a lot of things; swimming, fighting, protecting, brooding -- not winter. It was a relentless and unavoidable fact of life, and, like always, Grief regretted traveling far from the warmer lands in search of something greater. It was short-sighted, he thought. What was better than the warm sands he had been lingering by for the last few months? Clearly not this.
The mountains were frigid and unrelenting, nipping at his heels in a painful reminder that he had been naive at best. He swore he'd return to the sands shortly after he got whatever fix he craved. Exploration? Adventure? Peace of mind? What had urged him to make this dumbfounded mistake time and time again, if not an unsuspecting force?
Regardless, it was a mistake.
He pushed forward through the endless snow, grimacing into a tight scowl with each step. He needed to find a cave for the night; something to protect his hind from the flurries of snow whipping through the mountain. Somewhere to regret his decisions peacefully. He found his goal quickly, nudging his large frame into the small cavern until he felt adequately sheltered from mother nature herself, groaning as he pressed into a rocky corner and tightly drew his tail around his form.
A mistake this was!
"What a fool," he murmured in irritation, lowering his head onto curled legs.
"Indeed," came the answer.
His head snapped towards the sound, pupils contracting into sharp slits and teeth-baring in response. A low and pained chuckle answered him, the sound of slithering following after.
"I doubt you have much to worry about. You greatly outmatch me," the stranger hissed faintly, closer than before. Grief pulled his shoulders back and peered into the darkness.
"You're small." Grief hadn't meant it as an insult, truly, but the faint outline of a creature pressed against the cave bottom was barely recognizable. The creature laughed harshly, followed by a cough.
"Dreadfully smaller," they offered, and with that, they slid into view. Grief cocked his head side to side, making sense of the thin figure before him. The creature was nothing more than a blue snake, and a pitifully slender one at that. Did snakes lose weight when they starved? Grief visibly relaxed the tension in their body, rolling his tail back into position.
"What is a snake doing here?"
"I could question the same from you. Your kind doesn't look equipped for this season."
"Fair enough." Grief snorted and glanced back towards the cave exit, sighing heavily. "I arrived on a whim, and now I regret every decision and pondering that led to it."
The snake hissed out a tired laugh, turning their attention to follow Grief's gaze. "The makings of most mistakes, I presume."
The wind shrieked in answer, echoing through the depths of the cave and piercing Grief's ears, lamenting with the trapped pair. Or, perhaps it mocked them -- that seemed far more fitting if you asked Grief.
"Are you hurt?" Grief nodded towards his companion. The snake shook their head, rising from the cold floor a few more inches.
"Cold and hungry, and full of regrets. It seems we're both in great company." The snake shared a knowing nod with Grief, bitterly hissing against the cold and bitter wind that blew into the cave without mercy. Grief shifted, pulling his tail back and exposing his side towards the serpent. The snake regarded him wordlessly, head canting to one side.
"The storm will last for a while," Grief explained, thumping his tail against the rocky terrain. "You are right; I am far bigger. If it helps you survive the worse of the night then I offer you to take shelter here, where it is warmer." Grief wasn't one to feel embarrassed, but the expressionless gaze of the snake managed to burrow uncertainty into his brain. He had meant it; he wasn't the horrible stallion most assumed from his appearance or gruff voice, after all. The snake would definitely not survive the night on their own, and while it was easy enough to permit the world in its attempt in snuffing out the cold-blooded creature it also burdened him little to share what he could.
"I hope I'm not too rude in my hesitance," the snake began, eying Grief's side. "I am painfully aware that my demise is scheduled for tonight, but I can't help but wonder if I prefer death by the cold or by the jaws of another. One sounds less painful than the other, doesn't it?" Humor laced through their voice, even with the shiver that leaked through their words. Grief flipped his tail lightly, already uncomfortable from pulling it back for the brief time he had.
"I heard freezing to death is one of the worst ways to go," Grief countered, void of any emotion that might comfort the smaller creature. "If I chose to crush you in my jaws I would do so quickly -- it hardly would hurt." He held his gaze with the snake, a faint irritation present in the corner of his mouth as, again, another cold wind snapped through the cave, sending chills up Grief's body.
"I've also eaten recently," he added, impatiently thumping his tail. It was so cold. "Make your decision swiftly, or I'll make mine first." It sounded like a threat but for the normally monotonous stallion it was simply the truth; he was not going to wait there begging for the serpent to take his offer. He wanted to help, surely, but if the snake chose the frigid teeth of winter that was their decision to make. Grief was not one to mourn the decision of others.
"Very well," the snake conceded, sliding up and towards the waiting stallion. Grief sharply inhaled as their cold scales brushed against him, clutching his tail tightly around his body once the snake had vanished into his side. Cold muscle tightened around a leg, pulling the snake to peer up at their savior.
"If you choose to end my life please do so while I sleep. It is a small mercy I request, but I don't believe it's too much to ask." Their tone warbled from amused to tired as they disappeared into the warmth Grief offered, tightly curled between the crook of an arm and Grief's chest. Grief rumbled in answer, lowering his head back onto his legs with a sigh.
"I hate the taste of snake, anyway."
- - - -
Morning came and the birds screamed their celebrations, chirping and whittling at the quiet air until it relented to the bird song. Grief woke with a low groan, opening one eye and then the other to survey the cave exit. The wind had died down, giving way to a still winterland. He had almost forgotten the traveler sharing his space, jolting as he felt movement unravel from his leg and slither a head into the open, also peering at the cave exit.
"Good morning," the snake offered, voice warmer than before. Grief groaned again, lowering his head back down with a low huff.
"Mornin'," he hummed, although he couldn't say 'good' in return. He was exhausted still, but if he wanted to make it out of the mountains before another nightly storm he would need to do so quickly. The snake flicked their tongue out and rose slightly from their nest against Grief's chest, pitifully eying the stallion.
"I suppose you're leaving soon?" The snake sounded almost disappointed, although Grief could quickly put together why. Without the warmth he provided the snake had little to cling to and would likely perish shortly after. He debated asking again how the snake even arrived at these inhospitable lands, but he doubted he would be rewarded with a clear answer. He chose to shift instead, stretching long limbs and cracking joints awake, making room for the snake to slide up his arm and around his shoulders while he rose.
"I want to leave these lands immediately," Grief explained. The snake nodded sharply in understanding, beginning its descent.
"Well, I will let you go on your wa-"
"Do you want to come with?"
The two collided in language, both pausing to regard the other curiously. The snake flipped from surprised to a deep relief, nodding hastily.
"Oh, yes, please," the snake answered, returning to their spot on Grief's shoulders, burrowing into their hair. "I would want nothing more."
Grief nodded in return, flipping his hair to further cover the poor serpent who clung to him so desperately. With that settled it was time to leave, together. Grief had no expectations of the future; he wasn't the type who easily made friends or expected anyone to stick to his side after, but he couldn't deny the feeling that the right decision was made at that moment. He also couldn't shake the notion that they had skipped a very important experience.
"My name is Grief." He spoke as they left the cave, tilting his head towards the snake as they squirmed to peek their nose out.
"Unfitting, honestly. At least for me. I am called Flake."
Grief laughed lowly, a small smile touching the edges of his mouth.
"I find your name also unfitting, Flake."