As he watched her die, he thought of autumn.
She fought so bravely, twirling around him in a flourish that rivaled the most violent and brilliant of fall's storms. Her determined green eyes reminded him of the leaves refusing to give way to the coming cold, that cling to life with every fiber of their being. Her brown hair, tousled and loose, brings about memories of running through the barren woods, crushing the fallen orange leaves beneath his feet carelessly as the child he once was played and laughed. She is beautiful; tragic and breathtaking like the season itself. He watched as her eyes become cold and distant, like the man he became. In that moment he wondered if winter grieves as it murders the beauty of the world.
As she towers above him now in a totally different life, he realizes winter does not last forever. Autumn returns stronger and more beautiful as ever, reborn in the spring to melt the cold in winter's heart. She stands as strong as an ancient oak once more, the antennae atop her head sparkling with the ferver of a spring storm. Her green eyes are as determined as the grass that pokes through the suffocating snow. Brunette locks remind him of the sturdy mast of his ship, of standing next to it and feeling the spring winds carry his hopes and dreams.
As she kills him, he thinks of spring, and smiles.