WHITE NOISE fills his ears... Crimson colours his vision.... The morning sharpens his sight.
Dawn kisses the Woods with rosy lips, blessing the entire land with golden rays as snowy dew forms on the ground and cold mist rises from the earth.
A wild elk stands unmoving atop a blackened mound, its antlers high and proud like fingers of lightning during a storm.
A door slams closed, and the shadowy form of a huge man clears the steps of a large cabin. The dirt gives way the moment his boots connect with the earth.
The stag bends slow, picking at sprigs.
The man begins undressing. His clothes fall to the floor and a stunning musculature displays over his smooth skin. He fingers the knot of his hair, and a silver mane flows down. He stands naked and beautiful in the morn's cold, totally unaffected by it.
The Rising sun blesses the Cabin, making it picturesque. The frigid wind whispers over his lone form and his hair glows platinum like a god's.
A winter god.
The Stag lifts up it's head, and sees slate-gray predator eyes. Immediately, it flies forward with terrible speed.
His muscles contract. His bones rearrange. His teeth extend and blood spots dance before his eyes. White fur tears through his skin, seemingly growing out of nothing. Sweat forms on his eyebrows, which transform into a finely-trimmed brush of silver fur.
He can see the stag bounding through the woods in flight. But it's too late. Escaping him is impossible.
The Silver wolf places a front paw before the other, like a sprinter. It puffs and growls low. The heaving running form of the stag fills their vision. Then they run in pursuit, feet barely connecting with the ground.
...
Crows balance on the grounds, cawing away their delight at the encroaching coldness. The silver-haired man clears the tall trees and makes his way towards the Cabin. His entire naked body is covered in wet blood which still trickles down his abs. The stag hangs from his broad shoulders, glassy-eyed and limp, a fatal gash on it's open neck.
The sun is over the canopies now but a soporific fog blocks its light. As the man ascends the steps, a white fleck dusts his nose. He smiles and his features turn divine. Razor fangs spread apart his pink lips and he sighs.
He's not fully human.
Can never be. At least not now.
Because the winter's already here.