In a place of white falling from the sky and coating the ground, sprinkling from the shivering trees, one speck of black falls, staining the white. The white face, eagerly matching the ground, shivers along with the trees. Can't get up, so it stays. Fallen in the white, a speck of black fades. It ponders, was this it's death? It questions how something described so cruel could be so nice. It remembers the rush of the cold, the feel of the white, surrounded on all sides. No longer does the black stain the white, it has moved on to it's new life. The black stain now knows it has a home, it need not cower in the cold. 

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Out in the white, a dark spot is freezing. No movement, it's shaking. 'so cold', it's thinking. Out in the whites pouring storm, flurries are falling; the dark spot it is shielding, it's hiding. Out in the white, a red is trying and searching. 'Where is the purple?', the red is thinking. But then it sees it's friend, curled up, starting to turn blue. Poor purple, but it's safe now. The dark spot is leaving, found by it's friend, who is red. 'Goodbye', they are thinking, not staying in the white any longer. No more cold, no more hiding, covered in whites embrace. No white is surrounding a dark spot; it's safe.