A Seasonal Fable (part 3)

Sing a carol, now, to the Winter Wanderer. When the days shrivel to nothing, and you fathom the bottom of your bowl, and you enter the long night of the soul, the Wanderer comes forth! Know him by his Second Aspect. Call him Jotunir. Call him Lord Frost. Call him the Winter Warrior! He comes cloaked in a patchwork coat stitched from all of our nightmares. He comes with a prerogative of vengeance. The hearts of the selfish and vain are his food. Merrily, merrily he goes about his terrible business. He stalks the wild places, stands in shadows, and you may not even notice when he drinks your misty breath. O, darling. O, deario! It’s past time to make merry. Did you dare tarry? It may already be too late. <i>Roh-de-lay-ho-ho-ho!</i><i> </i>