The white colt stood in the blizzard. He shivered and flicked his tail to shake off some of the snow and turned to where his mother was lying, watching him. She smiled.
Jack trod through the snow towards her, his hooves crunching into the snow. "Mama?" he asked quaveringly.
"Jack," she said. "My dear Jack, you need to leave me. You have a life." She sighed. "And mine has ended."
"But, Mama!" little Jack cried. "I can't leave you!"
"When you were born, the snow blessed you. An angel from heaven came down. Jack, you have powers. Use them. Survive."
Jack stared at her, then, as her words sunk in, he buried his nose in her shaggy fur. "I will," he promised. "I will survive, for you."
"Go now!" she urged. And he went. He fled into the night, into the blizzard, the cold. He went on until he could go no longer, then he lay down, wishing the storm would stop.
"Oh," he murmured, "why won't the snow stop falling? And what did Mama mean by pow-" he broke off as a shaft of sunlight filtered through the trees to where he was lying. He gazed at it and put his foot out to touch it, as though he weren't quite sure it was real. The moment he touched it, however, the ground froze over and left a small, cold patch of ice. "Mama was right!" he thought. "I do have powers - snowy powers."
He stood up and, with new strength in his heart, carried on.