The stars appeared as beads through the falling snow, their light so gentle. Everywhere, the ground was a frozen blue, the midnight forest rising up from it in straight black lines. It had been snowing for a while, the heavy banks now silver-fringed by the light of the stars. And the barren moon....

At first, he couldn't figure out what was blocking his nose. He snuffed and sneezed, but whatever it was seemed to change shape, becoming more obstinate, and certainly colder. He tried to raise his arm, only then realizing the pain. He couldn't feel his fingers. Shaking, groaning, he eventually brought his sleeve to his face, bashing clumsily at his nose. But his cuff was lined with this same substance, cold and jagged.

He laboured to open his eyes, and to his horror, they too were caked shut. He let out an inarticulate squawk, flapping around in a manner that some part of his mind chided as undignified. He was lying on his stomach, his struggles forcing more of the offensive cold stuff down his shirt.

Finally, his eyelids pried apart, and he looked about wildly. To his infuriation, his vision revealed nothing but a dim haze of blue and white. He lay for a moment, snorting, blinking, waiting for his eyesight to sharpen. This it did, though the picture before him changed only marginally.

Snow! He moaned, suddenly realizing why his fingers felt numb. How long had he been lying here? He brought his hands to his mouth and blew frantic hot breaths onto them. This failing to revive, he jammed the tips of his fingers into his mouth, no longer caring how silly it may look. To his relief, the frozen digits began to tingle painfully, blood running warm through them once more.

He must not have been lying here for long; surely on a night like this, he would have frozen to death instead of waking up. His hands now more or less mobile, he removed them from his mouth, searching for a dry spot on his clothes to wipe them.

After some minutes and twisting and snarling, he managed to sit up, tucking his legs beneath him. His breath plumed from his mouth in little clouds of fog, faintly amusing to one as muddled as he.

Above him, dark trees rose, wintertime bare, branches locking in a dome over his head. And through it, the silver disc of the moon sent beams of light through the canopy, illuminating the snow as it fell.

He stared openmouthed at the moon, head cast upwards. It was so bright, so much like another light, one that had left him with a final, radiant memory.

"Ginzuishou!" he gasped suddenly, toppling over backwards. His eyes went wide and blank, and in his mind, he saw the deity queen Serenity raise the silver crystal. He gagged, closing his eyes tight. Yet, the memory played on, and he watched the divine light of the ginzuishou engulf everything in sight.

The moon... he had been there! Up there, where it hung now in the sky. He had fought there, led by Queen Beryl-sama. The red queen. She had wanted the crystal for her own; it's power drew her. But Serenity....

He rolled over, his face in the snow. Serenity had turned the ginzuishou's power on them, revenge for her ruined kingdom. Her daughter had been killed -

"I am...."

He groaned, turning over onto his back, once more to see the night sky. For a while, he simply lay there, on his back in snow, staring up at the moon. These memories were all real. But now, as he lay here, they seemed impossible. The moon in the sky looked so far away... how could he have been up there, fighting?

Where he lay now was not the Dark Kingdom. It was not the comfortable subterranean caverns and tunnels to which he had grown so accustomed. The demon Metallia, the one who had ruled over them all, could not be felt here.

"I am dead," he said to himself. But that sounded even sillier. He chuckled to himself, blowing little clouds of vapourous breath into the air above him, watching as the moon lit them.

Then he froze. Along the border of the trees, a tiny noise, faint yet undeniable, caused him to fall silent. He stopped blowing breaths, holding perfectly still to listen. Growing impatient, he levered himself up, twisting his neck to look about.

Yet the surrounding forest was motionless, without even a breeze to stir the branches. He floundered about in an effort to imitate the noise that he'd heard, trying to account for it. It had sounded like shuffling along the ground, muffled by the gently falling snow.

If it's far away, then that's why you can't see it. Probably snow falling from the trees. Or an animal. Who knows what they have here.

"Baka," he grumbled.

Yet there it was again. Closer, this time, and now distinctly punctuated by the sound of snapping twigs. A great big animal....

His breath grew short as he listened. He could make out the unmistakable noise of feet scuffing through the snow, dogged yet clumsy. Twigs broke under their weight.

There!

Two saplings in the fringe of trees were bent sideways, and from them burst the shadow. It reared upwards, arms out and flailing, snatching at any wayward shrubbery.

He watched the form lurch and stumble, dangerous in its speed. From its throat came strange howls, so intense they sounded sorrowful. Its pelt was covered in copious balls of snow, a wild mane hanging in tousled strings.

His breath hissed inward as he watched it turn sharply, charging into the clearing where he sat. He drew back, forcing himself to his feet for the first time as he prepared to run. The creature was smaller than he, but its velocity and reckless lunges warned him to get away.

It was still screaming as he stumbled from it. He scrambled madly, terrified by the sound. Yet, as he truly began to run, the cries he was hearing seemed to change in his ear, transforming from the unearthly howls he'd been listening to moments ago.

He skidded to a halt, slowly turning around. Though the noise was inconsistent, the words were unmistakable:

"Kunzite-sama.... Kunzite-saamaaaa!"

The figure tripped, collapsed onto the snow, and laid there, breathing heavily.

Slowly, silently, he crept back towards it, now realizing that this purser was no animal hungry for meat. And on this thought, he reached his hand out to the fallen form.

His visitor rolled over upon his touch, hair falling back in tangled orange wisps. And suddenly, like magic, he found himself staring into the ruddy face of Zoisite.

"Kunzite-sama?" the little sakura croaked, hooded eyes fixed on something beyond and nonexistent.

"No.... it's Jadeite."

"Jae... daitou..." Some recognition crossed Zoisite's eyes before they rolled back into his head. Then, quietly, he murmured, "This is the ginzuishou's curse."