One Man

One man, though. One man, and his dog.

Winter came on strong. Water pelted down to soak bodies being grabbed by gusts and gulps of angry air. And soon the figures were forced to vanish. The streets were handed over to the army that marched in. More men, more men, glad to show no mercy.
The ground, which had been kind to those that caressed it, now took joy in playing tricks. The city lost all self assurance, it's once brave feet sliding from beneath it on the deep set ice. It's eyes watered from the stinging winds.
This city had been scorned again. 

One man, though. One man could not squirrel away into the warmth of his winter cocoon. He trod on and on, his little shadow at his heel, and on and on they trod. For need. For must. For fear he was already auditioning to play a part he could not want. If he was cast to be stone, it would not stop his little shadow from still pacing at his heel.