Walter walked softly among the snow-covered trees, hunched down and focused on his hunt. The world had fallen silent many, many years ago, structures and statues wiped clean by time. The ones who survived, like him, knew only of the past and present; Time had taught them that the future was a fickle thing, apt to change in the space of a whim, and so had adapted to live only for the day and not count on tomorrow.
Gripping the weapon in his hands, Walter paused as he approached a clearing. The stubs of saplings poke through the woods, the last spot nature had yet to completely reclaim from generations past. His people had known of this clearing, and what lay in it, although he had never gone so far as to see it himself.
Standing to one side was the remains of a stone building. Two slabs stood against the world, worn and warped but stubborn in their design. The remains of a roof sloped down to the ground, half of the building taken by the forest behind. Snow dusted the tops and sides, catching against long grooves inside the defiant slabs.
The story was that the designer wanted his building to withstand everything, including the current of time. In response, Time had grown claws, striking at the building with every passing day. The myths surrounding the whys and hows grew with every generation until there were hundreds of possibilities and no answers.
Walter pressed his fingers into the grooves, a lifeless chill crawling the further he pressed. He stopped when his wrist passed into the darkness, but not because he felt the stone within. More because he still found no center and it chilled him. Pulling his hand away, he walked around the building, pondering why its maker wanted it to withstand time. If it did, then no one would ever see its remaining beauty. It would be lifeless and have no stories.
Time had left many, many tales upon the surface of this rock, some etched incredibly deep. So many fingers touched these walls, so many eyes gazed upon the stone as they did upon the cliffs.
He hesitated, a crunch far off drawing his attention. He pressed himself behind it, peering around, to find a deer entering the clearing. He raised his weapon, ready for food, when a fawn clamored in behind. The pair stopped, hesitating as the deer breathed in the smells of the clearing. She brushed his footprints with her nose before deciding against a graze, leading her fawn away at a jog.
Walter slumped against the structure. His mouth was dry, his clothes were wet. He glanced up at the sky, saw the outline of the cliffs just beyond the forest. Nothing would last, not really. He knew Time would take him long before it takes these woods or the cliff. It was sad, true, but it didn’t take away from his memories or the memories of his loved ones. For today, they were happy. Those who lived in these woods were happy.
It was true that Time taught them the frailty of life. The other side of that lesson, however, was that not even Time could steal away the emotions of the day. If embedded hard enough, and hidden deep enough, emotions could withstand anything even as memories fade. Even as life fades. Even through the cold grip of Time itself.
As he pondered, Walter caught sight of some low-hanging berries. Standing, he inspected them for any marks to warn of poison and saw nothing. Taking his weapon in hand, he pried off what he could and searched the clearing for more, finding a few more handfuls. Looking around the clearing once more, he bobbed his head in thanks and disappeared back into the forest.