The Story of The Seasons and The Guardian

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Settle down littluns, for it’s story time from this old geezer. Hey hey! This one’s a good one, I promise. Don't you roll those looking balls at me young’un, or I’ll go straight to your mother! You wouldn't like that, would ya? Good. Anyways, as i was saying.

There was once a holder of seasons, the Guardian, controlling and manipulating the temperatures and weather of all of Earth. How he got there and how he was born, we will never truly know. Some say he was made by a higher creation, others say he was born from the dewdrop of any early spring morning with the sun peaking it’s head over the horizon.  He controlled how the breeze flowed across the grassy plains in spring, and the freezing frost that sprinkled a grassy lawn in the chilling morning of winter. His kind eyes and wise mind lead the four seasons in the right direction and path, creating harmony throughout the region. He controlled and managed the four seasons, keeping them from bickering and causing raging storms that ravaged the earth and only caused problems.

Wait a minute. Let me backtrack.

Now you see, the season weren't just some groups of temperatures and changing colors. No sir, the seasons were living spirits of the seasons themselves, bending and shaping the weather patterns as they were commanded. Summer was an sturdy Iranian Wolf, suited to the warm temperatures with it’s rusty brown coat like fresh soil just tilled on the farm and it’s golden eyes like the beating sun boiling the grounds beneath its wake. He was an emotional fellow, wearing his heart on his sleeve at anything he does. Except sadness, for the only negative emotions the male wolf felt were anger and jealousy. He loved to create high temperatures, boiling the waters and creating lazy days because of the extreme heat. This cocky male was usually blinded by anger and arrogance that caused problem for everyone.

Spring was a delicate little Apennine Wolf, her yellow-tinted eyes like the baby yellow daisies peaking their buds through the melting snow and her coat was a blotchy grey, like the rainclouds thick and dark with water that filled the skies of the rainy days of that season. She was a fragile wolf, emotionally and physically wise, like a delicate lilac floating and cascading on a warm spring breeze. Not much of a fighter, Spring was more intelligent than fit, with her proper language and intricate vocabulary. A British accent tinted her voice and added to the “proper lady” stereotype she filled in perfectly. She loved to correct others on their incorrect knowledge and grammar. Though she seemed and acted like an innocent angel, in actuality she has a deep and darker side that threatens to consume them all.

Autumn was a quirky Maned Wolf, with a rusty red coat like fresh fallen leaves leaves that brightened the ground and silver eyes like the starry skies that filled the chilled nighttime. She was an emotionless creature, her blank eyes matching the colorlessness that filled them. She spoke little and only when needed, keeping conversations awkward and short in length. Autumn loved to zone out and stare at certain random objects like they held a secret world of their own. But don't be fooled by this subtitle attitude and blank emotions by mistaking her for an innocent little girl, for this she wolf was about as cold as the winter winds that threatened to take over her time in control.

Winter was a Arctic Wolf, with a pelt fresh and white like a clean snowdrift and icy green eyes like the life and nature his season was empty with. He was a happy wolf, with a pure and childish nature that filled the season he controlled. He loved smiles and joy, things that lacked his world with bitter colds and short temperaments from starving families. This didn’t faze the small wolf one bit though, for his native and pure self spread his snow wherever he could. He always had a bright grin on his face, his lively green eyes always lit up with joy. Now Winter was different from the rest. Winter didn't have the flaws that filled the other seasons’ corrupted hearts. He was about as pure as the freshly fallen snow that he produced during his time in control. Winter was also the youngest season, for he started late in the year with his rein. Winter was what caused fresh start-overs, new beginnings by wiping the slate clean with a layer of chilled snow. So naturally the Guardian favored the happy season and formed a closer bond with Winter that with the other bitter seasons.

The other seasons hated that. And Winter.

   Autumn would purposely take longer during her season’s time and Spring would start her time early and melt the snows that Winter took so much time to create, cutting off the cold season’s time of rein. All the other season would raise their temperatures, causing it to become more difficult for Winter to create the blank canvases he loved dearly from the bottom of his being. They would bully the poor male wolf saying things like “You just bring death and destruction wherever you go!” and “Do you know how many animals you kill with your dumb storms?” and “All you do is freeze dreams and cause pain, not fresh starts and new beginnings! that’s Spring’s job! Melting the mistakes you made.”. Eventually, Winter began to believe them. He believed he was a monster, should have never been born, should just go away, should just die and melt away like his snow did every springtime. Because Winter was native and pure, like the snow he spread, he trusted and believed the lies his brothers and sisters so cruelly told him.

His smile faltered, his eyes dulled, his spirit broke.

The Guardian was appalled at the other seasons, for this was their own flesh and blood that they were bullying and crushing with such cruel measures. The Guardian grew enraged, his anger blinding his mind with the white hot fury that boiled inside of him. He sent the three seasons into banishment for their crimes, taking away their times as seasons and giving Winter full control until the other seasons paid for their wrongdoings. Of course the three seasons argued, yelling insults between the Guardian and to the cowering, broken Winter that hid behind the Guardian’s shadow. Eventually the Guardian’s anger broke and he forcefully banished the seasons, ending the dispute for now. Angry and frustrated at the three seasons, the Guardian left the Winter spirit in control. But the Guardian forgot one crucial, most important, essential fact that would alter the world for centuries to come.

He forgot to tell Winter that the other seasons were wrong.

That killed Winter on the inside.

   That he wasn't a mistake, that he is needed, that he is loved. He left Winter with the insults that filled his blackening heart, letting it consume the white wolf who controlled the frozen season. It ate away at him slowly in the solitary world he controlled, like a wolf gnawing on a meaty bone. He cried himself to sleep every lonely, solitary night, his tears drowning the lands below in layers and beds of snow. Winter thought that it was all his fault, that he was the reason that the other seasons hated him, that the Guardian now hated him, that he was a mistake. A mistake. A Mistake. A MISTAKE. A MISTAKEMISTAKEMISTAKEMISTAKEMISTA-

The Guardian never returned. Where he went, not even the stars know.

The season of winter still blankets the earth, forever chilled winds in every part of the world and a permanent blank canvas on the ground as the season blocks out the world to live in his solitary self-hatred. As for the other seasons, they are scattered across the earth, trapped beneath the murk ground and in rocky caverns that only the bravest may travel to. Will they ever be free? And what will happen to Winter’s blackened heart? Can anyone chip away the blackened ice that surrounds the youngest season? Or will all be lost to the blank canvas the threatens to cover us all?

   Now wasn't that a better story? You youngun’ liked that one, didn’t ya? Better than the toad and the fox-hair right? I think that brings up the end of this story time. Oi’ what do you mean “what happens next” little one? Don't get your tail in a twist, for only you know what happens next, for you’re the only ones who can decide how this story ends. As for me, I’m gonna go catch some z’s in a patch of sunlight before the next snowstorm blankets these grounds again. See ya’ll tomorrow youngun’!
~~~~~~~~

//hand cramp from so much writing// anyways hope you like~



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SolaraOkami's avatar
XDD THIS WAS AWESOME TO READ!...

I imagined these beautiful pictures in my head that I wish I could draw... ermagawd DX it was such a good read o: