Aspen represented darkness, a cruel winter night— the ice nipping at exposed skin, hurling the living into hiding from his storms.

Yet, he'd found himself melting in your presence; a jittery warmth would swarm his stomach, and all the horrors he'd witness would fail to plague his mind, as though you'd become a shield.

"Can you teach me to braid?" He'd asked, his german accent contradicting his soft words.

Aspen waited patiently for your response, he'd always wait.