Alexander didn't know what to think, didn't know what to say.
They both continued on like nothing had happened—but something clearly did, something changed Alexander didn't know what. The monsters felt it as well, was this something to do with Hester? Or maybe a change in the wind? Or maybe one of the Gods? The last one was one of the monsters ideas Alexander dreaded to think of what a God would do if they saw both of them, out in the middle of the forest alone, it was either the start of a joke or a tragedy.

Alexander didn't know if he wanted either.

He still had no idea what it meant, still he continued swinging the axe violently at the persistent tree that almost mockingly, refused to fall. Ignoring the constant bickering of the monsters and the feeling of dread welling up inside of him.

Hester watched on a branch of a tree, he flew on a higher level then what Alexander could reach, almost the top before the tree became too defined and not having anywhere for Hester to put his hands. He watched with his feet dangling below him idly tracing the bark on the wide trunk he leaned against, the bark having scratch marks from wild life using it before him.

His hand was bandaged, poorly and clumsy done the wrapping coming undone a multitude of times, and it already began stain the cloth, soon they would have to leave just because of Hester, however Hester didn't mind all that much, he was getting worried now, with the sun sinking further down and silhouettes started to poke from the trees making him paranoid with Wilbur not being around. Hester then remembered that the whole reason he was in this situation—was because he was being hunted, letting paranoia grow and grow, Alexander seemed unbothered by the rapidly darkening sky or Hester's constantly surveying the surroundings more like prey than predator—but then, Alexander stopped and stared blankly at the tree he was cutting down.

"Mate, what's wrong?" Hester called before he could stop himself, Alexander stared up at him holding his axe limply "Do you hear that?" Almost confused, Hester focused all his attention to his ears, straining them only to hear the splitting silence that was there originally, unbroken and never ending.

". . .No. . ?" He said simply, confused at the remark, and worried about where it was going. "We need to move." Alexander said numbly strapping his axe across his back started to survey the sky walking clumsily backwards, almost worry seemed to flash across the young man's face. There was nothing really to see, other than the stars the trees made it almost impossible to see anything, Hester opened his wings and anxiously flew slightly past the threshold of the height and then he saw it.

"Oh shi-"

Hester cursed softly. It was a blizzard, and a big one at that, a line of clouds steadily approaching, black and grays filled the sky threateningly, Hester had never seen something as simple as weather look so intimidating, and dangerous before. "We can't stay out in the open." Alexander said harshly, beginning to run from the looming clouds. Hester jumped down, joining next to him. They both began running side by side, Hester wasn't paying all his attention on where he was going but after a moment he was sure they were going the opposite way to the house.

"Wait—Alexander,"

Hester said through breaths, when danger came, he flew not ran—now discovering he was not good at running.

"I think—we're going—the wrong way."

He said as Alexander took a right, again going in the wrong direction, annoyed now Hester just thought he was doing this to tick him off—however still ran next to him.

Hester thought that weather was something small originally, something that couldn't stop someone from doing something, it didn't matter what the sky looked like, it could be warm or cold, plagued with rain or snow but it didn't matter—life continued as always.

He underestimated it.

And that was his mistake.

When the snow came down, all hell seemingly broke loose. Hester fell immediately as ice poured from the sky, his hands tightened around himself in the snow, as he felt the wind hit his wings, cold, it was so cold. He shakily got to his feet and tried to run again, he couldn't see anything in front of him anymore and couldn't find Alexander, if he was shouting his name he would never know from the wind screaming in his ears seemingly dragging him—Hester at its mercy.

And then something grabbed him tightly, pulling him from his arm making Hester fall backwards hitting his head on the stone ground feeling his brain being knocked around in his skull, and just like that, everything was fine again, it was like someone threw freezing water at Hester, leaving him shaking and fatigued, but alive—which, with almost feeling the moment that meant the end, was beautiful.

Hester looked up dazed and confused, seeing Alexander...