This would become known as one of the worst winters the Xiao empire had ever endured. The sun had not been seen for days because of the dark gray sheath of clouds that continuously coated the sky, casting the earth below in a sort of perpetual twilight for its daytime hours and the night's as black as ravens wings because there was no moon or stars to allow for much safe travel at night. The temperature was bitter, frigid, causing the ground to become hard and frozen just before the snow began to fall. That had been four weeks ago. It had snowed on and off for eighteen out or the thirty days. Sometimes the snow came down like tiny white specks that shot from the dull gray clouds with great haste. Other times, the snow was fat and fluffy, gliding on the frozen air like feathers. That was the kind of snowfall that settled, stayed, and then built up and grew. Three weeks ago all travel had come to a stand still because the snow had reached three feet in just two days! Livestock had to be brought in because they wouldn't last in snow like that and with the temperatures dropping to single digits overnight, they barely made it anyways. Smart ranchers made fires near their livestock pens to keep them alive.<br/><br/>Some of that snow had melted or blown away, but all that had done was cause drifts that often barricaded people in their homes. They often had to dig themselves or a neighbor out of their own houses. And sometimes, like today, snow fell at such a heavy pace that a person could not even see but a few feet in front of them. At a time like that, it was all too easy to get lost in a village that you had spent your whole life in. The snow was now back over two feet and people tried to spend as much time as possible cooking, cleaning, or doing anything to keep warm against the bone chilling wind that occasionally blew all of the snow sideways and into your face.<br/><br/>The village of Hongyuan was nearly buried in snow. Since virtually all of its men had been taken by the surrounding clans in order to bolster their army ranks, it had been left in the hands of its women. It was a middle sized rice village that had once boast a hundred people, but since the men and able bodied boys had been taken, that population had dwindled to forty three. They had pulled through though and had not moved on because many of them held onto hope that some day their men would be returned to them and their lives would have some semblance of normalcy. But, it had been three years now and they had been struck a low blow by this winter. It had crept up through an unusually called fall season that had been cut short because winter was apparently eager to deal its blows.<br/><br/>Biyu knelt down by the hearth and gently tossed the remaining logs onto the fire, one right after the other. The fire soon grew and the room brightened a little bit, lit up by the amber glow of the flames. It was a small place and definitely humble as it had belonged to an aging couple that had never had any other children other than Biyu. Both father and mother were there because her father had luckily been too old to be of much use to the clans and their armies. He wasn't without his uses though and when it was the season to plant, he was out there with the women, placing the rice plants neatly in rows. He had always been a hard worker and had thoughtful dark brown eyes and a set of salt and pepper eyebrows that were impressively bushy. His wife, only a few years younger than him was short and quiet. She wasn't the type who shared her thoughts too often but worked hard to keep the little house running.<br/><br/>Biyu was a great help to the both of them. She was very young at nineteen and worked hard. She had always been keen on pushing herself, providing the best she could for the parents she had been given to show them how grateful she was. It was still cold in the house, but with the fire being larger, it would warm up a little more. They were also having broth with dinner tonight. The village would probably never go hungry as long as the fairer seasons remained fair. That was probably the largest benefit from living in a farming community. They might not have the fanciest clothes or grandest houses and they might even be a little colder in the winter, but they would never go hungry.<br/><br/>She reached out and grasped the wooden spoon and stirred the broth, which was now beginning to boil. Behind her, her mother sat on a thin cushion and was in the process of making rice balls with her nimble, but aging hands. Biyu looked behind her at her mother and said, "It is almost ready. But we are out of wood. I'm going to move it a little from the fire and go out to the stack so that neither of us needs to go out to get anything."<br/><br/><em>"That is good,"</em>her mother said simply without looking up from the rice ball she was forming in her hands at the moment.<br/><br/>Biyu pulled the pot off of the hook and set it on the warming bricks that were just outside of the hearth. Now she wouldn't have to worry about the pot boiling over, or the broth going cold. She stood up and wrapped a heavy shawl around her shoulders and then wrapped one of her father's heavier winter robes around her slim frame to best thwart the bitter chill. Then she wrapped another shawl around her head so it didn't get cold. Next, she pushed the door open and it was nearly ripped out of her hands as a particularly forceful gust of wind hissed across the countryside. They had a basket hanging up near the door where they had most of their shoes so they wouldn't get buried in snow. Biyu reached in after she pushed the door shut with her weight and slid them onto her feet. She realized by their loose fit that they were her father's but he was napping and there was no way she could have seen to even be able to pick through the basket to find hers. Plus, it was awfully cold out here. She shivered and exhaled a cloud of white which quickly swirled from her lips and then began to move carefully along the side of the house to where  her father had shopped wood the day before this hellish storm had hit them.