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Holly King

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     The sun shone bright and he moved through the forest, hunched over feeling old and worn. The snow had melted, leaving piles of slush and water behind. Animals that usually hibernated for the winter began to reemerge. He pulled at the piece of holly tangled in his hair and the last withered berry dropped to the ground.
     His beard was thick and grey and he tugged at it absently as he followed the pa
th through the forest.
     Winter was over.
     He'd come soon. Tall, strong and arrogant.
     The cycle between them was never ending, tedious. But with each passing Winter as Spring approached something changed within him. Something fundamental. Winter ended but power continued to build within him.
     A horn sounded in the distance and he froze. His stags bounced through the woods, crossing his path and disappeared. Hunching lower to the ground, he clenched the long staff and rapped it against the ground. The start of a low, sharp beat that the forest picked up and echoed on the wind.
     He entered the clearing just as the dark form of his adversary stepped out into the light. The man was youthful; with a head of brown hair and large stag horn arching from his forehead.
     It didn't matter, this year, the Holly King was staying.