Into Death Bravely

Winter throws his great white shield on the ground, breaking thin arms of twisting branches, and then howls on the north side of the Black Mesa a deep, throaty laughter. Because of him we have to sell our cattle that rake snow for stubble. Having lived his whole life in a few weeks, slow and pensive he walks away, dragging his silver-stream shield down branches and over the ground, he keeps walking slowly away into death bravely.