Winter is the dead season. For all of us. Maybe Air has it easier than Fire, maybe Water has some new tricks to make it more bearable. But we all struggle. I think I struggle most of all.

Every winter I’m afraid it’s going to be my last. You’d think after three hundred years I’d have a little faith, but it’s difficult to believe I’ll see another spring when I start feeling like an empty husk. When sleep finally overtakes me... it’s hard not to be afraid I won’t wake up.

The worst part is I know someday, I won’t.

--

Oh look it's the elementals again.

I think this is drawn partly from the phoenix myth, where after five hundred years it is reborn in another body.

I think this one is cool when read with the other Earth and winter drabble, Change In The Weather.