I don’t remember it snowing much here. I mean i positive it snowed here. There were people from the high north where it snowed constantly. My dwarven friends make constant reference to making treats called snowballs. So it snowed in this world.

Maybe I am misremembering things again. My memory has holes in it. Minor details nothing serious. I recall standing behind the dais during a trial but I reality I was behind it. That sort of thing. No matter.

“Bucephalus!” I screamed into the snowstorm. It wasn’t cold or very difficult to see, so it was the perfect time to take Bucephalus out for a ride.

It didn’t take long for the familiar sound of her hooves to began sounding her approach. My faithful nightmare appeared in a bellow of fire and smoke. She nuzzled her head against me.

“Fancy a snow covered ride?” I asked petting her. She neighed her approval. Quickly mounting her sans her saddle was an interesting affair. The heat of her fiery mane and the cool of the snow was an curious feeling.

I pushed her forward and she went off in light trot. Once we cleared the city gates and the outer wall, she cut loose. Since we had no real destination, I let her choose.

At first we were against the falling snow. It was a sight to behold. Her heat extended a few meters radius above us. So the snow that it the first layer of the radius melted into water. When that water hit the second layer it melted into steam. So around us we traveled in our protected bubble.

She then cut against the wind. Bobbing and weaving around or over imaginary obstacles. Knowing my Bucephalus as I do, she was more than likely envisioning her and I in glorious battle against our foes. I pulled her mane tighter and pretended to draw my spear. I leaned in close to her.

I pointed in a seemingly random direction, “There. The commander is there. Come let us take his head.” She neighed her approval and sped up.

I wasn’t too afraid it wasn’t difficult to see around us. And anything short of a mountain would not stop her once she began.