Oberon stood at the edge of his territory; a cigarette dangled from his lips.

His season was over, but snow still clung to the branches. The cold wouldn't be chased away by the sun. Winter would not be felled so easily, not this year at least.

Titania wasn't here to sing the trees awake. He would be lying if he didn't find that a gift. It left a bit more time to linger in his season, a little more time to ponder his machinations for his down time.