Damien looked out the window of his train seat, watching bits of snow smack against the glass and dissolve into water. The warm glow of soft light gently illuminated the cabin occupied by a few other people. Scarfs and shawls rested by the sides of those few occupants, not needed in the shelter of the lulling movements of the train.

Damien scratched his arm and winced from a sharp tick. He pulled up his sleeve noticing a stain of red upon both his finger and a piece of silver. He drove his finger back onto the shard bearing his teeth like a wild wolf.

"Damnit," he screamed, smashing his arm against the train window. "A thousand arms in all and it had to be this one that got stuffed."

Hundreds of pieces of glass flew outward against the snow storm taking off like birds newly released from their roosts. Damien blinked his eyes and rubbed them, watching as each shard slowed to a stop. The train slowed in unison, coming to a gentle halt as the last piece of glass reformed the window. His head spun searching the cabin for anyone or anything. The warm glow of various cabin lights were silenced, snuffed by the haphazard rays of a full moon bleeding through unevenly. The few occupants were nowhere to be seen.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice booming out from inside his head.

A visage coalesced from the darkness near the opposite end of the cabin as if one of the curtains had settled into a person's form. It lounged on the seat for a moment then stood. Lights fizzled back on as the person walked towards Damien.

"You take the train now because you fear death?" her voice asked. He gripped his arm watching as bits of electricity rippled down his fingers.

"You're not death," he spit between his teeth. "Not even close."

"Yet, here I am," she giggled.

Her hands swept the hood that covered her face away revealing tussels of firey hair. She placed herself across from Damien framing her eyes in his. His hand waivered from it's post at his side, wanting to reach out.

"You torment me," toiled Damien. "You sit before me, yet I know you're not real."

"What is real, Damien?" she posed. "Is this cabin real? Are all those memories and thoughts in your head real? I'm as real as I want to be."

"Don't drag me into philosophical debauchery," cursed Damien.

"I'm not dragging you into anything," she stated. "You're in it already, this iniquity. You've been in it since you first came to this land, by your choice or another's."

"I had no choice," fumed Damien. "It's never felt like I've had a choice, just invisible strings pulling me in the direction I was always meant to go."

She sat next to him, placing her hand on his bloodied sleeve. Her fingers traced down to his wrist and she peered into his fading eyes.

"This is a gift," she said. "As much a gift as I was given, yet it all comes at a price."

"I already know what I have to pay," said Damien.

"Good," she said, yet her voice choked. "I didn't know until it was too late."

His good hand moved to hers and landed on his shard riddled arm. The curtains danced, the lights clicked back on and she was gone, vanished like a sorry dream. The snow outside howled as he touched his chest, the rhythmic thump under his palm as loud as brakes hissing as the cabin swayed with the movement of the train.