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Whispering Wings in the Winter Wilds

by Bill Tiepelman

Whispering Wings in the Winter Wilds

The Silence That Screamed Back The snow didn’t crunch beneath her feet — it gasped. With every step, Lira walked like a secret looking for somewhere safe to hide. Swathed in crimson velvet stitched with symbols no mortal tailor could explain (though her dry cleaner would later try, bless his soul), she moved like a question mark curled into a lullaby. Her companion, however, had never been one for subtlety. “You know,” Korrik said, swiveling his feathery head in that unnerving 270-degree owl way, “this whole ‘mysterious enchantress in the woods’ look is gorgeous, yes, but I’m freezing my tail feathers off.” “You don’t have a tail,” Lira replied without looking. “Metaphorical tail feathers. Emotional tail feathers. I’m vulnerable, Lira.” Korrik, the Great Spirit Owl of the Frosthorn Peaks, guardian of the Glacial Gate, and recently self-declared podcast host, had a way of blending gravitas and sarcasm like hot tea with just a splash of gin. Once, he’d disarmed an entire battalion of ice trolls with nothing but a pun and a glare. But today, he was simply cranky — and suspiciously damp. “That’s because you fell in a creek,” Lira murmured, stroking his soaked wing. “I was diving to save you!” “From a squirrel.” “A potentially rabid squirrel with a knife!” “It had a pinecone.” “A sharpened pinecone. Tactical weapon. Definitely trained.” The Watchers Return The forest, that endless blur of white and breath and needle-thin trees, shifted around them like it was listening. Because it was. Everything in the Winter Wilds watched, even the silence. Especially the silence. Lira slowed near a clearing marked by stone towers, twisted and worn like the spines of sleeping giants. She placed a gloved hand on one. It was warm. Not warm like sunlight, but warm like memory — familiar, haunting, a little clingy. “They’re stirring again,” she said. Korrik’s mood shifted in a blink. Humor dropped from his feathers like a cloak. “How long do we have?” “Until twilight. Maybe less.” “You could be less vague and more terrifying, you know.” “You could be less sarcastic and more helpful.” “But then I wouldn’t be me.” She smiled. “Exactly.” In the frozen space between heartbeat and echo, their bond shimmered. Ancient and sacred, born not of birthright but of choice — a witch and her watcher, once enemies, now fused by purpose. What that purpose was, exactly, remained frustratingly cryptic. But that’s how the Fates liked it. The Fates were jerks. A Name Written in Wind “You’re sure she’s here?” The voice came from behind the ridge. Male. Low. Invasive. Lira’s breath hitched. Korrik’s feathers stood on end. “Trouble incoming. You want the high road or the high ground?” “I’ll take the high ground. You take the drama.” He flared his wings like a diva on opening night. “I was born for it.” Three shadowed figures crested the rise. Cloaks like dusk. Eyes like spite. The lead one bore a staff crowned with a pulsating green stone — pulsing not with power, but hunger. “Lira of the Crimson Vale,” the leader intoned. “Your presence offends the order of things.” Lira tilted her head. “My presence offends a lot of things. Bureaucracy, fashion critics, small talk... Take a number.” Korrik swooped low, fangs bared. “And your face offends me. Let’s fight!” The air crackled. Snow lifted. The Wilds inhaled. And somewhere, just behind reality, something very old... opened an eye. Talons, Truth, and That One Time with the Ice Nymph The snow exploded before the first spell even landed. Korrik shot upward in a cyclone of white, feathers catching the moonlight like slivers of steel. Lira spun, red cloak flaring behind her, arms rising into sigils carved into the air with raw intent. Magic, sharp and ancient, burst from her fingertips like forgotten lullabies turned feral. “You should really work on your subtlety!” Korrik called from above as he dive-bombed the staff-wielder. “Also your skincare routine!” The man swung his staff, unleashing a lash of green flame. It hit Korrik squarely in the chest—where it fizzled and died. Korrik blinked. “Well. That tickled.” He responded with a scream that cracked frost from branches a hundred yards away. The snow groaned, split open, and something *moved* beneath it. Lira stepped forward. The leader, flanked by two cowards dressed like budget necromancers, snarled. “You have no idea what you’re protecting.” “Wrong again,” she said, eyes glowing violet. “I know exactly what I’m protecting. That’s why you’re going to lose.” With a motion like pulling memories from her bones, Lira whispered a word no one had heard for centuries — not because it was forbidden, but because it was lonely. Everything froze. Literally. The attackers, mid-motion, snapped into statues of frost. The stone towers behind them shuddered, exhaled mist, and shifted their alignment, revealing a stairway down into the earth. The entrance to the Heart Below. The Pact Rekindled Korrik landed beside her, talons careful not to touch the threshold. “You sure about this?” “No. But we were never meant to be sure. Only brave.” “You know that’s the kind of inspirational nonsense that gets people eaten by haunted furniture, right?” “I trust you.” He blinked again. Slower this time. The kind of blink that said fine, I love you too, now let’s go die together but stylishly. They stepped onto the stairs. Stone hummed beneath their feet. The deeper they descended, the warmer it got — not in temperature, but in intensity. The way you feel walking into a room where your name’s just been spoken. Below, the Heart pulsed. A being of ice, spirit, and sorrow — guardian of the balance between realms. It had once chosen Korrik as its emissary. Now it chose Lira as its voice. “She comes,” the Heart whispered. “Blood-bound. Magic-marked. Fierce and flammable.” “I told you to stop using that shampoo,” Korrik muttered. “You smell like vengeance and lilacs.” Lira ignored him. “The Order is moving. They want to unbind the gates.” “Then we will seal them forever,” the Heart replied. “And if they follow?” “Then we give them what they seek: a world where only the strong, the true, and the gloriously sarcastic remain.” Korrik puffed out his chest. “Finally. My kind of world.” Aftermath, Tea, and Maybe a Book Deal Back in the forest, the statues began to melt — slowly, screaming. Their magic was broken, their leadership dismantled, and one of them had wet himself before freezing. Korrik promised never to let anyone forget it. Weeks passed. Snow fell gentler. The Wilds whispered less and laughed more. Lira and Korrik found a cabin on the edge of everything. A place where the world couldn’t quite reach, and reality had the good sense to stay confused. They drank too much tea, argued over firewood stacking technique, and fought off the occasional cursed marmot. Their bond deepened — not because of duty, but because they were better, stronger, and funnier together. Every so often, someone would knock on the cabin door with a warning or a prophecy. And every time, Korrik would answer with a smirk and a warning: “If you don’t come bearing cookies or compliments, turn back now. The witch bites. And I peck.” They never stayed long. And So... The Heart slept once more. The forest watched with different eyes now — gentler, knowing, a little amused. And the snow? The snow still gasped. But now, it was with laughter.     Bring the Magic Home If this tale of fierce friendship, ancient snow, and slightly sarcastic owls spoke to your soul (or at least chuckled at it), you can now bring “Whispering Wings in the Winter Wilds” into your own realm. Explore our enchanted collection of themed products below, perfect for gifts, gallery walls, or just reminding yourself that mystical forests and divine winged sass do, in fact, belong in your daily life: Greeting Card – For when your messages deserve a little winter magic. Tapestry – Drape your space in spellbound wonder. Acrylic Print – Let the colors of frost and fire shine in rich, vivid detail. Puzzle – Piece together the magic with your own two hands. Cross-Stitch Pattern – Stitch your way into the Wilds with this elegant pattern version of the image. Shop the collection and let your walls whisper stories of snow, spirit, and sass.

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The Snow Queen and Her Celestial Owl

by Bill Tiepelman

The Snow Queen and Her Celestial Owl

In the farthest reaches of the north, where the air shimmered with a cold so ancient it whispered forgotten songs, the Snow Queen reigned. She was no ordinary monarch. Her rule extended not over lands or cities but over the delicate balance of winter itself. Every snowflake that fell, every frost-laden breath exhaled in the stillness, bore her signature. The world knew her as Solvara, the keeper of frozen secrets. Her palace, a labyrinth of crystalline beauty, stood at the edge of a frozen river that never thawed. Towers of jagged ice spiraled into the heavens, refracting light in spectral colors during the brief twilight of polar days. Within those shimmering walls, time seemed suspended. Visitors, rare as they were, often spoke of feeling the weight of eternity pressing gently but firmly on their chests. Solvara herself had lived through centuries, her life stretched long and dreamlike, a story without end. Solvara was not alone in her vigil. Perched on her gloved hand, always, was a celestial barn owl named Veylith. The owl was no ordinary creature. His feathers shimmered faintly, as if flecked with stardust, and his eyes reflected not the world around him but constellations. Veylith was her companion, her sentinel, and her mirror—a creature born of the same mysterious magic that tethered Solvara to her icy realm. The Queen’s Burden Though her domain was breathtaking in its beauty, it was a lonely kingdom. Solvara’s role was not born of choice, but necessity. Long ago, she had been a mortal woman, one of warmth and laughter, living in a small village nestled at the edge of an ordinary forest. One fateful winter, a plague swept through her home, stealing the breath of her people and threatening to plunge the region into despair. Desperate to save them, she sought the guidance of an ancient spirit said to dwell in the northern ice fields. The spirit, a shimmering being of frost and shadow, offered her a bargain. Solvara would be given the power to halt the plague and blanket the land in the purifying cold of winter, but in return, she would forfeit her mortal life. She would become the Snow Queen, a timeless guardian of winter, never again to feel the warmth of the sun or the touch of another’s hand. Without hesitation, she accepted, her love for her people outweighing the cost of her humanity. And so, she saved them, but at the price of her own freedom. Over the centuries, her memory of that time had faded like a snowflake melting against a warm palm. She could no longer recall the faces of those she had saved, only the ache of their absence. A Visitor from the South One endless night, during the dark season when the sun does not rise, a figure appeared at the edge of her kingdom. Solvara, ever watchful, spotted the visitor before they reached her gates. It was a man, wrapped in heavy furs, his breath visible in the icy air. Unlike the few others who had ventured into her realm over the years, this man did not carry greed or violence in his heart. Instead, she sensed something unfamiliar—sorrow, heavy and unyielding. Curious, Solvara descended from her icy throne and stepped out into the night, Veylith gliding silently above her. When she approached, the man fell to his knees, his head bowed low. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice trembling, “I have come seeking a miracle.” She regarded him silently, her silver eyes unreadable. “Miracles,” she said, her voice as soft and cold as snowfall, “always demand a price.” The man looked up, his face lined with grief. “I have nothing left to give but myself,” he said. “My wife… she was taken from me. A sudden illness, cruel and swift. I cannot go on without her. If you cannot bring her back, then I ask you—please—take my memories of her. Let me forget the pain.” Solvara felt a pang deep within her, a crack in the glacial armor she had built around her heart over the centuries. She understood loss; it was the thread that bound her to her realm. But she had not forgotten the cost of tampering with life and death. “I cannot return the dead,” she said gently. “Nor can I steal the memories of love, no matter how painful. But I can give you something else.” The Gift of Perspective She extended her hand, and Veylith flew to her, perching delicately on her wrist. “This is Veylith, my sentinel. Through his eyes, you will see the vastness of the world—the constellations that light the heavens, the storms that shape the earth, the quiet moments of beauty that exist even in sorrow. It will not erase your pain, but it may help you carry it.” The man hesitated, then nodded. Solvara held her free hand over his heart, and a faint light glowed between them. When she pulled away, the man gasped. His eyes now reflected the same starlit constellations as Veylith’s, and for the first time in years, he felt the crushing weight of his grief ease ever so slightly. “Go now,” Solvara said, her voice tinged with something like hope. “The world is vast, and you are not alone.” A Glimpse of Humanity As the man disappeared into the distance, Solvara turned back toward her palace, her steps slower than usual. Veylith flew ahead, his silent wings cutting through the frozen air, but for the first time in centuries, the Snow Queen felt the stirrings of something she had long forgotten—longing. The man’s sorrow had reminded her of her own humanity, buried deep beneath the snow and ice of her immortal existence. As she ascended the icy steps of her throne, she paused and gazed at the stars. “Perhaps,” she murmured, “even winter must end someday.” Veylith tilted his head, his constellation-filled eyes watching her intently. And for the briefest moment, the Snow Queen allowed herself to dream of spring.    Bring the Snow Queen Into Your Home Immerse yourself in the enchanting world of "The Snow Queen and Her Celestial Owl" with stunning products inspired by this magical winter scene. Whether you're looking to adorn your space with regal elegance or find the perfect gift for a fantasy enthusiast, these curated items are perfect for capturing the story's ethereal beauty. Tapestry: Transform your walls into a wintry wonderland with this breathtaking tapestry, showcasing the Snow Queen in all her icy majesty. Canvas Print: Bring this dreamy artwork to life with a high-quality canvas print, perfect for adding a touch of mystical elegance to any room. Puzzle: Piece together the magic with a puzzle featuring the Snow Queen and her celestial companion—a perfect activity for quiet winter evenings. Tote Bag: Carry a piece of the Snow Queen’s realm with you wherever you go with this elegant and practical tote bag. Explore these and other exclusive items in our shop to bring the mystique and beauty of the Snow Queen into your everyday life. Shop now.

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The Black Cat Fairy of Winter

by Bill Tiepelman

The Black Cat Fairy of Winter

Deep in the frosty woods, where the snow piles up higher than a bad decision on New Year’s Eve, lived a creature of legend—or perhaps infamy. She wasn’t your average sweet little pixie with flower crowns and doe-eyed innocence. No, this was The Black Cat Fairy of Winter, and she was here to raise hell, sprinkle glitter, and drink spiked eggnog—though not always in that order. The Black Cat Fairy, or "Kat" as she liked to be called, had a reputation. Her wings were as dark and shimmering as a blackout drunk text, and her feline tail swished like she was perpetually annoyed with everyone—because she was. Her wardrobe? A mix of gothic lace, thigh-high stockings, and a corset so tight it looked like it owed her money. But Kat didn't care about modesty. After all, as she liked to say, "If you’ve got it, flaunt it—especially if it makes the elves uncomfortable." A Snowstorm of Trouble One frigid evening, as snowflakes kissed the tops of the evergreens and the wind howled like a hungover banshee, Kat sat perched on a frozen log, sipping from a steaming mug. The mug read, "World’s Sassiest Fae". Inside? A suspiciously potent mixture of hot cocoa, Bailey’s, and something that burned like regret. "Ah, winter," Kat purred, her tail curling lazily behind her. "The time of year when people pretend to like their relatives and cry over failed resolutions." She sighed dramatically and took another sip. Just then, the quiet forest was interrupted by the crunch of boots on snow. A group of travelers had wandered into her domain. Kat perked up, her eyes narrowing with predatory glee. "Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite type of idiot—lost hikers." Emerging from the shadows like a cross between a seductive goddess and a walking HR complaint, Kat stepped onto the path, her wings glinting in the moonlight. The travelers froze. One of them—a burly man with a beard that looked like it had been grown out of spite—blinked at her and stammered, "Uh… are you… are you real?" Kat smirked. "As real as your browser history, big guy." The Fae's Mischievous Bargain The group exchanged nervous glances. They had heard stories about the Black Cat Fairy, though most of them involved drunken tavern tales about people who had returned from the forest missing wallets, pants, and sometimes dignity. "We’re just trying to find the main road," one of them piped up, a petite woman clutching a map that looked like it had been printed off the internet in 2003. "Do you… do you know the way?" Kat tapped her chin, pretending to think. "Hmm, I could help… but where’s the fun in that? No, no. Let’s play a little game." The hikers groaned in unison. Games with Kat never ended well. But it was either play along or risk wandering the woods until they became popsicle versions of themselves. "Alright," Kat said, clapping her gloved hands together. "Here’s the deal. If you can answer three riddles, I’ll guide you to the road. If you fail…" She trailed off, her grin widening. "Well, let’s just say you’ll be leaving the forest with fewer socks and more regrets." The Riddle Gauntlet The first riddle was simple enough: "What has a tail, no legs, and loves mischief?" "A cat!" shouted one of the hikers, looking far too proud of himself. Kat raised an eyebrow. "Sure, we’ll go with that. One point to you." The second riddle was trickier: "I’m cold, I’m hard, and I get in your way—what am I?" The hikers debated for a moment before the petite woman shouted, "Ice!" Kat’s tail swished. "Well, aren’t you clever? That’s two for two." But the third riddle? Oh, she wasn’t going to make this one easy. "I’m dark, I’m moody, and I’ll ruin your day if you cross me. What am I?" Silence fell over the group. They whispered amongst themselves, throwing out answers like "a thunderstorm" or "a wolf." Finally, the burly man stepped forward and, with a sheepish grin, said, "Uh… you?" Kat blinked, then burst out laughing—a laugh so loud it startled a squirrel out of a nearby tree. "Damn right, it’s me!" She clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Congratulations, meatbags. You win." The Road Ahead True to her word—something that didn’t happen often—Kat led the group back to the main road. But not before pilfering the last granola bar from one of their backpacks and giving the petite woman a slap on the rear for good measure. "Remember," Kat called as they trudged away, "next time you’re in my forest, bring wine and snacks. Or don’t come at all." As the hikers disappeared into the distance, Kat leaned against a tree, sipping the last of her now-cold cocoa. "Ah, humans," she muttered. "So predictable. So entertaining." And with that, the Black Cat Fairy of Winter vanished into the night, leaving behind only faint pawprints in the snow and a lingering sense of mischief. Legend has it that she still roams those woods, waiting for the next unlucky soul to cross her path.    Take the Black Cat Fairy Home If the mischievous magic of The Black Cat Fairy of Winter has captured your imagination, you can bring her charm into your life with a variety of unique products. Whether you're looking for stunning decor or a touch of whimsy, we’ve got you covered: Acrylic Prints – Add a sleek and modern touch to your walls with a vibrant, crystal-clear print. Tapestries – Create an enchanting focal point in any room with a soft, high-quality tapestry. Tote Bags – Carry a little fairy magic with you everywhere you go, perfect for shopping or daily use. Canvas Prints – Enjoy this stunning artwork with a classic, gallery-quality finish. Shop these exclusive items and more at Unfocussed.com, and let the Black Cat Fairy bring a little sass and sparkle to your space!

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Chilling Adventures with the Ice Dragon

by Bill Tiepelman

Chilling Adventures with the Ice Dragon

Winter had arrived in the Enchanted North, blanketing the forest in sparkling frost and transforming even the grumpiest of gnomes into rosy-cheeked enthusiasts. Well, almost every gnome. Gusbert Frostwhisker, known locally as the “Blizzard Buffoon,” wasn’t interested in sledding, snowball fights, or sipping mulled cider by the fire. No, Gusbert had a reputation to uphold—a reputation for outrageous pranks and harebrained schemes. “This year,” Gusbert announced to no one in particular as he stood in his snow-dusted yard, “I’m going to pull off the ultimate winter trick. Something so magnificent, so ridiculous, they’ll never call me ‘Buffoon’ again!” At that moment, an enormous, crystalline shadow passed overhead. Gusbert looked up to see the Ice Dragon—a magnificent creature of glittering scales and frost-tipped wings—soaring through the pale winter sky. A wicked grin spread across his bearded face. “Perfect,” he whispered. “That dragon’s just the partner I need.” The Plan Gusbert didn’t have much in the way of charm, but he did have a knack for convincing creatures to join his schemes (usually with promises of snacks). Armed with a bag of frozen berries and his best persuasive smile, Gusbert trekked to Frostpeak Ridge, where the Ice Dragon made its lair. He found the great beast lounging on a glacier, munching on icicles. “Greetings, oh frosty one!” Gusbert began, bowing dramatically. The dragon blinked, shards of ice glinting in its brilliant blue eyes. “I come bearing a proposal! A partnership, if you will. Together, we shall unleash the greatest winter prank this forest has ever seen!” The dragon tilted its head, unimpressed. Gusbert held up the bag of berries and shook it enticingly. “There’s more where this came from,” he said. “Think about it—snowball chaos, frosted-over squirrel dens, maybe even a mid-air snowflake sculpting contest! The possibilities are endless!” The dragon snorted, sending a small flurry of snow into Gusbert’s face, but eventually extended a glittering claw. Gusbert shook it eagerly. “Excellent choice, my icy comrade. Now, let’s get to work!” The Execution Gusbert’s first target was the ever-annoying Jinglebell Foxes, who prided themselves on their perfectly synchronized caroling. Perched on the dragon’s back, Gusbert flew over their snowy den and unleashed his secret weapon: enchanted snowballs that, upon impact, made the recipient uncontrollably hiccup jingle sounds. By the time the foxes managed to regroup, their caroling sounded like a choir of malfunctioning music boxes. “Hic-jingle! Hic-jingle! Hic-jingle all the way!” one of them howled, to Gusbert’s delight. The next stop was the Winter Stag Parade, a dignified event where the local deer adorned themselves with holly and tinsel. Gusbert swooped in on the Ice Dragon and sprinkled the parade route with enchanted frost that caused the antlers to glow neon pink. The dignified stags were less than amused, but the spectators roared with laughter. “Oh, this is too good!” Gusbert cackled, steering the dragon toward their grand finale: the Gnome Elder Council’s annual snow sculpture competition. The council was infamous for taking their sculptures far too seriously, with their leader, Grimpus, once declaring a carrot nose on a snowman “an artistic abomination.” The Grand Finale Hovering over the competition, Gusbert surveyed the scene. Grimpus and his fellow elders were painstakingly crafting an elaborate ice castle. “Time to spice things up,” Gusbert said, tossing a handful of enchanted snowflakes over the sculpture. Moments later, the castle erupted into a cacophony of glitter and ice, transforming into a gigantic, frosty replica of Grimpus’ grumpy face. The crowd burst into applause, but Grimpus was less impressed. “Who dares tamper with my masterpiece?!” he bellowed, shaking his fist at the sky. Gusbert waved cheerfully as the Ice Dragon executed a graceful barrel roll, scattering more glitter over the competition. Unfortunately for Gusbert, Grimpus had a keen eye. “It’s that blasted Frostwhisker!” he roared. “Get him!” The Escape “Time to go!” Gusbert shouted, urging the dragon into a steep dive. The pair zipped through the snowy forest, pursued by an angry mob of foxes, deer, and gnomes wielding snowshoes. The Ice Dragon, however, was having the time of its life. With each powerful beat of its wings, it sent waves of glittering frost cascading over the pursuers, slowing them down just enough for Gusbert to escape. When they finally landed back at Frostpeak Ridge, Gusbert slid off the dragon’s back and collapsed into the snow, laughing uncontrollably. “Did you see their faces?” he wheezed. “Priceless!” The dragon let out a rumbling purr of agreement before curling up on its glacier. Gusbert tossed it the rest of the frozen berries as a thank-you. “You’re a true artist, my frosty friend,” he said. “Same time next year?” The dragon snorted softly, which Gusbert chose to interpret as a resounding yes. As he trudged back to his cottage, Gusbert couldn’t wait to start planning his next big prank. After all, winter was long—and the Enchanted North needed someone to keep things interesting.     Bring the Winter Magic Home Love Gusbert and the Ice Dragon's frosty mischief? Capture the magic and whimsy of their chilling adventures with our exclusive collection of stunning products: Tapestries: Add a touch of frosty charm to your walls with this enchanting design. Canvas Prints: Perfect for showcasing the magical winter ride in vibrant detail. Puzzles: Piece together the icy brilliance with a playful and dazzling puzzle. Greeting Cards: Share the frosty magic with loved ones through these delightful cards. Start your collection today and let Gusbert and his glittering dragon bring the spirit of winter wonder into your life!

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