Norton's Hut

Pure white snow, lying lazily over branches like people on beds.

A blue sky, like beautiful shining crystals.

Freezing air, like Antarctica itself.

A bright sun, biting at our backs. Dead tree's, moaning and groaning.

A bright horizon, like a fairy realm. The damp wood of Norton' s hut, ancient and old, the mist of a legend swoops over us. A mysterious man, almost a stature and 

refusing food. With his back to us, He hogs the small, young fire. Pale, white mist, leaking out of the chimney of a snow covered hut. Mountains in the distance, smiling children playing snow fights, yelling and squealing as lumps of snow explode with power, splattering girls and boys with dry snow.

The End.