The morning light shone through the gaps in the wall as if it was an open window. With a soft glisten, the reflected light of the snow and ice shimmered with its soft fall, though its embrace was far from wanted on the skin of a man.

With a grunt and a whine, he rolled out of the ever-reaching dawn's light, trying to stay away from its warmth and its simultaneous awakening.

With heavy feet through the hard dirt and melting snow, a stout, tall figure marched his way from beyond the shelter of his home and company, towards the slumbering man's bed. "Hey, Paulus," he said, as he entered the barn hunched over to fit through the door. His brown hair lay combed carefully to the side, as not a speck of dust or dirt made its home on any part of him. "I need you to get up. I got work that needs doing and not enough time to do it all. You better not still be drunk."

"Just another hourglass, Mathias," Paulus mumbled, pulling the cloak that was his blanket over his brown hair and soft features, with his heavily scarred and branded hand. "Just another few hours..."

"Don't make me get the water, not again," Mathias warned, waving his finger in a stern warning. "You know I will. I've done it before. I'm not going to feel sorry for you, you know. I will get the bucket. You know I will. And you know what will happen in this cold."

A grunt and a whine filled the air for a moment, followed by a plume of warm air leaving Paulus's mouth like a chimney. "At least close the door. It is freezing. I might lose something important. Something the women of this world can't live without."

"It was opened when I got here," Mathias replied with a sigh. "You're lucky none of the animals suffered."

"I could have caught my death," Paulus said, as he shuffled back and forth and looked for comfort. "Maybe I should just lie down for a little longer. Make sure I'm well enough to go and work."

With another sigh, Mathias ran his hand through his hair struggling to find the right words. "You're still drunk. I'm going to get the bucket. Yeah, I'm going to go and get it."

"You don't have to do that," Paulus replied with an annoyed sigh of his own. "Why do you want to do that? Do more work and for what? So, you can feel good about yourself? So, you can tell your wife that you came and bothered me? Big man."

"You stink," Mathias quickly stated, as he turned and made his way back the way he had come. "You have been laying in the same spot for who knows how long. And don't talk about my wife." His pace was quick, though not quick enough to escape the words that followed and burrowed into him.

"You really are under that woman's thumb," Paulus said bluntly. "Always knew you were weak, but to choose her over me, shows what a man you are. A short one. And I'm not talking about your height."

"You leave my wife out of this," Mathias replied in saturated anger.

"I'm just saying, you could at least be honest," Paulus said, as he closed his eyes and remained in the trapped heat of his makeshift bed. "Instead of that passive thing that you and every other woman does."

"You really want honesty?" Mathias asked, growing louder with each word. "You want honesty, fine. What type of a man are you who had it all and lost it because of stupidity and greed, and then does nothing but moan and drink, when he's not begging for a handout? What kind of man brags to people about the brand he got on his hand, when those very same people not only put it there, but laugh behind his back? And what kind of man walks to the capital to beg, when he has good limbs to work with? You still drunk now, or just hungover?"

"That's not fair," Paulus replied with a stoic tone. "I also eat. And what about you? We used to do good work together. Made enough for you to live here, didn't I? Or did you forget that?"

A twitch pulled on Mathias's eye as wrinkles gripped him. "Yeah, you helped me! But I helped you too! I remember—" he grew silent for a moment as he shook his head and waved his hand before his face. "You know, I have had it with you. Not even related to you and I'm treating you better than I do my own son. My own son!"

"Well, I would feel bad for your boy, but you're not bothering him right now, are you?" Paulus asked back. "He just has to worry about getting your looks, or hers..."

"What was that?" Mathias demanded to know.

"What was what?" Paulus asked back, with an act of ignorance, as he turned his eyes to him. "Did you say something?"

A stillness held the air for a moment as the two men stared each other down, the only sound permeating between, the subtle drip of the fading snow.

"So, are you going to go?" Paulus finally asked, as he pulled his cover over his head. "Like I said, come back in an hour. I need the sleep."

"You know, I have seen lepers work harder than you," Mathias replied as he waved his finger. "And that's not even a joke. That's a truth. Even with their faces falling off and dealing with all that shit people give them. Seen them at least get out of bed."

Paulus peeked his head out of his cover with a long silent stare, as if debating to release the words on the tip of his tongue. "That's no way to talk about your wife."

Mathias grew still and silent, holding the stare with eyes that grew wider with each beat of his heart. "To hell with the bucket, I'm getting my shovel," he finally warned with a hiss, as he turned around and stormed out of his barn.

A grumble and a reassuring sigh left Paulus's lips, as he pulled the makeshift blanket over his face once again. "He's not coming back," he said with a sigh and a faint laugh, as he turned onto his side and closed his eyes. There he remained, his breaths steadily rising and falling. Though, before he could find comfort and peace, one again the sound of footsteps drew near, and his vision was drawn.

With a shovel in his hand, its spade still covered in mud, Mathias returned with a look of rage across his face. He stood a few steps shy of his friend, his fingers coiling tightly while he readied himself.

"You're not going to use—" Paulus began to say with a laugh, though could not finish.

"GET OUT!" Mathias shouted, as he raised the shovel high and rapidly advanced towards him.

The sound of confrontation and turbulence filled the early dawn, as only one phrase by Paulus could be heard through it all. "Not the face!"