It's only when it snows that the lantern appears, always disappearing as soon as the snow starts to settle. No one knows its purpose, or who puts it there. But it is said that whoever touches it gets transported to the realm of faery, never to return.

Christopher Norling wrapped his cloak tighter around his shivering body in an attempt to ward off the cold that tried to slowly steal his life away. He could hardly feel his various appendages, not even his tail as it trailed along behind him in the snow, just an inky blemish that the snow tried to cover.

Squinting his dual coloured eyes, trying to see through the frozen glass that covered them, the lung dragon spied a light. It was a small light, with nothing special about it. But that single light gave Christopher the strength to keep trudging through the snow towards it. But to his horror, the light got even smaller as he got closer.

He stumbled blindly over the hidden obstacles in his path, trying to go faster than his weary legs would allow. Suddenly, the light winked out, and he stopped his relentless fight against the snow and wind. Falling to his knees, Christopher gave up. He would die right there, and no one would ever find him.

Looking up for one last time, the dragon found that there was a lantern nestled into the snow in front of him. The warm glow pulsed and dipped with every gust of wind that knocked against it. A thread of panic made its way through Christopher and he frantically grabbed at the flawless iron that cadged the light from the worst of the storm.

As soon as he touched the still warm metal, the snow seemed to stop, everything seemed to stop. The urge to open the lantern struck the dragon, and as much as he tried to resist it, his paws were already trying to open the latch that kept the fire safe from the elements.

As his numb paws worked on the latch, the iron grew almost impossibly hotter, making his clawed fingers burn at the difference. Finally, the latch gave way, and the top flew open, but the fire didn't snuff out, in fact, it popped out of the lantern. Heat penetrated Christopher, and he found that the snow that had clung to him was melting, as was the snow under him. Flowers sprouted up like it was the height of spring.

"Thank you for releasing me, kind stranger." The ball of flame said happily in a feminine voice, which, upon a closer look, turned out to be a tiny long haired cat, just as big as his paw, with glimmering orange dragonfly wings that gave off pulses of heat at every beat.

"You're welcome," Christopher breathed, in complete awe of the petite creature, a faery.

She gave him a smile, twirling, letting her dress flow around her like the petals curling over stamen at night. As soon as her movements settled, the dragon saw that was exactly what the faery's dress was made of. Probably a hundred small lily white petals must have been painstakingly sewn together to make the shirt that fell to her knees, while a single petal rose from a girdle made from the stem of a leaf, covering her chest from whatever elements dare touch her.

"As a reward, I will bring you to my house." She fluttered away from Christopher, and time was restored, but the snow still did not touch her.

A line of lush green grass followed her closely, the occasional flower and mushroom springing from the ground in her wake. The dragon followed her quickly, not wanting to have the snow leach his life from him again.

Hours passed, though Christopher would swear that it had only been minutes. Now he stumbled along through grass that was the same height as he was, with mushrooms and blooming flowers towering over him as he tried to keep up with the faery. It wasn't even snowing anymore; in fact, there was no snow anywhere, just the green of a spring eternal.

She eventually lighted down in front of a gargantuan tree. Its bows easily stretched over the neighbouring saplings.

Christopher caught up as the faery waited in front of a door carved right out of the trunk. He shivered when she threaded their fingers together, his light grey fur stood on end at the contact. Her other paw was used to open the door (the brass handle fitting perfectly into her slim white fingers), revealing the inside of the tree.

It was hollow, the walls carved with intricate patterns and images. But before Christopher could examine them, she pulled him over to a chair situated by a table and placed a plate in front of him piled high with fruits.

"Please, eat your fill, kind stranger." Her melodic voice drifted through the crisp air, wrapping the dragon in warmth.

He coughed, the warmth dissipated swiftly. "Ma'am, you don't even know my name."

If he had been in his right mind, he would have noticed the flash of panic over the faery's pale green eyes before she smiled kindly.

"There is no need for names here. Please, eat." She gestured again to the plate of food.

Christopher acquiesced and eyed the different types of fruit presented to him. There was an apple, not the traditional red, or even a sickly green colour that would have displayed its tartness to the world. It was coloured the soft pink of a flower petal, not jarringly bright, but not washed out enough to appear bland and unappetizing.

Just the colour made Christopher's mouth water with need. It pulsed through him, making the desire to bite the fruit even more demanding to ignore as he let his eyes slide over to the next piece that caught his eye. This one was oval in shape and covered in large, waxy, sickly green petals that faded out into pale purple spikes.

It reaped his interest as he sunk his black claws into its petals, pulling it apart to reveal the prize within. The flesh was black and dotted with thousands of miniscule white seeds. The thought of stomaching such a thing repulsed the dragon, but he couldn't stop himself from tasting a bit of the flesh that clung to his claws as he let the fruit go.

The texture left much to be desired, having the consistency of peas (which Christopher thought were disgusting based solely on the feeling of their flesh), but he was struck still by the burst of intense flavour that flooded his senses. Quickly, he pressed the half of fruit that was still in his paw to his muzzle and ravaged the poor thing as if he were dying of starvation.

He ate every other piece of fruit in turn, not sparing a single though to its shape or colour, only caring that the wonderful tastes didn't stop. Soon there was nothing left on the plate, and as his saliva washed away any trace of the fruits, he was struck by the most horrid aftertaste. It spread slowly from his tongue, down his throat, and to his back. Where it just sat, burning underneath his skin as he frantically clawed at his back, trying to get rid of it.

Christopher woke up to the faery brushing her paw against his forehead, her touch no longer electrifying him, now it only served to make him even more sick. It worried him slightly that the orange glow around the woman was fading, leaving her tricoloured fur bland and unappealing.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I truly am."

She reached around his neck to unclasp his black leather collar. The iron pentacle that hung from the front made the faery hiss when it touched her fur. She threw it against the wall and angrily worked on getting his clothes off. Soon, he lay there in nothing but his fur and scales, but it wasn't exciting, bordering more on revolting as she tied a loincloth made of a single leaf and a few stems around his lower half.

"This is a cycle that is just as unending as the spring here. Travellers lost in in the snow are doomed to die." She hauled the dragon up, supporting his weight as they walked out of the house.

Near the tree was now the same lantern that had started the whole mess, its iron exterior now repulsed Christopher, somehow knowing that if he touched it, he would get hurt.

Her wings fluttered weakly as they hoisted her into the air, pulling the dragon along with her, born by his own pair of moth wings that gave off pulses of heat that melded easily into the metal of the lantern. The top blew open, and Christopher nestled himself into the small cup that should have held a candle.

As soon as the woman let go of Christopher, the wings disappeared off of her back and she fell to the soft, green ground. A smile lit her face as the lantern's top shut, the latch clicking solemnly, and the green land was replaced with a barren snowy landscape.

The faery didn't know how long he had waited, but the sense that the time he was meant to shine was soon to be upon him. In the distance a shape formed out of the darkness, making the faery will his vessel towards it.

He appeared before the bundled figure of a brown and white dog.

"Thank the gods," was the first utterance the person expelled as she grasped the lantern. The faery could feel that she was prepared for the storm, bundled up more than the average traveller was. She would survive.

"Christopher?!" She called out, searching for her dragon.