A Frolicking Lick of Light

The man beneath the cape shuttered, 

leaving him frost-bitten to the nails edge. 

A small flicker of light shone out of his nearly detached pocket. 

"Come now, come even, come to me, you stout." he grimaced as another stiff wind took hold of his stance. 

With a flourish of his frost-bitten fingers, the light flickered once again, but with a waning. 

The snow fell around him, the winds cursing his existence, only to let live the wise. 

"Come now!" he roared. With a second flourish of his hand, the light became the depth of his space. 

And he was gone. 

Minutes went by and yet she stood. The man's niece huddled by a low lying tree watching after the encompassing dark which fell upon her uncle.