The chill wind of a late winter night sweeps over the forest as the man who carries with him a curse of ice enters its bounds. Animals scramble to escape his icy touch, leaving an eerie calm over the once oh so vivid forest. The man shudders at the behest of his curse, for he for one cannot escape its touch, not now and not ever. He thinks and he remembers, and that is the extent of his lonely existence. Remembers a time when he felt warmth, when he knew life.
The King Of Ice (Draft)
Benjamin Bratz 