Flames in the snow

The blizzard was raging, snow flying horizontally in the wind directly against the knight, the flames burning on his gauntlet the only thing keeping him warm. He stepped forward, pushing into the powerful winds, stomping through the thick snow that reached up to his knees, using the butt of his poleaxe to stab down through the snow and find the ground, ensuring that he wasn't going to fall into a hole or off a cliff or other such madness. Everything in the world was white - he couldn't see the difference between the ground and the sky.

Were the blizzard not so powerful, he could have easily ignited the head of his polearm and used it to melt the snow in front of him, clearing a path for his feet and speeding his travels. But the snow was falling too heavily, too fast. Anything that he melted would freeze over only moments later, and recovered with but more snow. He was, sadly, safer traveling on the way he was.

His horse, of course, had had to be left behind. No sane creature, be it beast or man, would be traveling in conditions such as these. But the knight had a mission, and one he intended on carrying out, and if he was to do so then he had no time to waste. He was fortunate he had a command of fire, else he would have died within an hour of setting out. His armor was warm, and the snow that fell upon it melted and steamed away in an instant, to refreeze as it passed him by and continue on as it had been. But the wind... That was another problem.

It snuck in through the cracks in his visor, got in his eyes and tried to blind him. It pushed against his every action, making him fight for each step. It sapped him of his strength, and dared him to stop. And when he thought he could hold out no longer, it would die down, just enough that he thought it might be the end and he could continue, before roaring back to life with a vigor. It taunted him in this way tirelessly.

But in the roar of the storm, he heard something else. Faint, distant but closing, he heard the slosh of another walking in the snow. But not walking. Running. Running towards him from...

He turned to the left and swung his axe as its head burst to flames, slicing through melting snow before it froze to slippery ice. The approacher turned their head away from the flames, blinded by them, and stepped blindly onto the ice, losing their footing and dropping hard into the snow. Another swipe of fire, and a solid strip of ice was over the approacher's chest, pinning them down in the snow.

It was too loud for conversation. Too white to make out any details about who had approached. The knight had no idea if he was facing friend or foe, but had not been willing to wait to find out. He knelt down into the snow, holding out his flaming gauntlet to hold back the snow and light the person's face. A woman, fair skinned with a strong face, more surprised by her fall than scared. As she saw the knight looking down on her, she reached into her thick jacket to pull forth a pendant hanging around her neck.

It looked as though the knight would not have to walk as far as he had thought.