Chapter 1: Gone With the Snow

The Sterling family farm is decimated in a blizzard, so with nowhere else to go, they call their long-estranged daughter, Rosemary, for assistance.

January is often considered to be the most brutal month of Winter, and that proved to be way past true one night down in northern Alabama, especially its rural areas. Normally, the state would receive a blessedly light two inches of snow each winter, but 2046 set a major record for them. This time, a staggering four feet of the densely-packed, frigid glop piled up on the ground, accompanied by powerful sideways winds and even an ice-storm that left a thin, slippery coating all over everything it touched.

One particular farm appeared to be impacted especially hard. Every house and barn on the property had been either collapsed or blown down by the storm with their contents strewn about, quickly doomed to be buried in the piles of white that covered the ground. Trees robbed of their remaining foliage and corn and wheat crops uprooted or knocked over. The numerous animals that lived here did not go unignored, some of them blown away a good distance and others weighed down by the voluminous precipitation, with a few having already died from the low temperatures alone.

It wasn't until the crack of dawn when the farm's owners noticed that the blizzard had finally died down. With a considerable amount of effort, an aging silhouette of a man forced open a wooden trapdoor in the ground, which led to a storm cellar, before peeking his head up and surveying the ravaged area.

Much to his surprise, the roads nearby had been plowed earlier, and the snow remaining on the ground was surprisingly pretty, pure white and untouched by anyone without a single dirt stain or tire-track in sight. It also helped that the ice-storm had left behind a large, slick and shiny sheet over the top of it, as well as everything else, making it all look smooth and causing the early morning sunlight to reverberate everywhere. The trees that hadn't been knocked over were completely coated in the stuff, as were the several large tractors that the farmer owned, overturned, half-buried and frozen solid to the ground, and most likely unable to function until everything melted. Shards of the broken buildings poked up out of the snow, as did a few livestock corpses, preserved by the cold weather.

"Well Lorraine? Looks like the farm's totaled," the man spoke at last, in a heavy Backwoods drawl.

"Not sure how we'll be able to pay for it all, Paul. What with our home also bein' our family business," replied a female silhouette who stood up next to him, speaking in the same dialect. "All I know is, until we work out a solution, we'd better find somewhere else to stay."

"Welp, the other nearby farms are out, obviously," Paul responded. "...But there is someone we know who lives elsewhere."

"Really, who?" Lorraine asked, before suddenly having an epiphany. "...Oh god no... you don't mean...?"

"Well can you name anyone else?" Paul argued. "I know she's all but estranged from us, but she's the only one I can think of, and it'll be a good opportunity to make amends."

"Eh, I suppose you've got a point. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wanna see my baby again." Lorraine shrugged, looking back down into the lantern-lit cellar. "Now does one of y'all have a phone I could borrow? I seem to have misplaced mine."

"You didn't misplace it, Maw! It's right here!" a younger female voice called back.

---

Meanwhile, up within the city limits of Kicksburg, Montana laid a big, well-kept mansion - one of two similarly-designed ones within the small town's borders, each positioned at one end directly across from each other. Up here, the weather was far nicer with a lot less snow to be found. Yeah, it was still chilly out, but nothing a second layer of clothing couldn't fix.

Within the extravagant, roomy abode, a stout young woman lay sound asleep in the darkened master bedroom, sporting choppy golden-blonde hair down to the nape of her neck and a gold crucifix necklace. A man with a nest of curly black hair slept adjacent to her with an arm around his wife, while a baby girl rested peacefully in a basinet nearby, a hand-me-down from her father. She had her father's eyes and her mother's complexion, while her hair was a blend of both parents'.

It didn't seem like anything could disturb the serene scene, until a slightly muted ska-punk ringtone sounded from a smartphone on the woman's nightstand. Just loud enough to rouse her, but not enough to wake up anyone else in the room. Silently thanking the heavens that her daughter wasn't awakened, she sat up with a groggy moan and rubbed her navy-blue eyes, just as her husband silently removed his arm and rolled over, taking some of the covers with him. Extending a sleeved arm clothed in her favorite cow-print pajamas, the woman picked up her phone, squinting as she read the brightly-lit screen, only for her eyes to pop all the way open as she read the contact's name.

Mom? she pondered, confused. Huh, can't remember the last time SHE called me.

Without waiting another moment, the woman answered the phone, making sure to whisper into the mouthpiece so as to not disturb her family.

"Hello? This is Rosemary," she said cautiously, her accent similar to that of the farmers'. "Any particular reason you're calling me after such a long time? Especially at this hour? ...Wait, what? Oh my god, that's awful! ...Whoops, damn it, I know I know, ten commandments and all that jazz. ...Uh-huh? ...Y-Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I'm on it. I'll send you a ride. ...Yeah, I know. I meant a private jet. Just let us make the arrangements, and I'll tell you where to get picked up. Be sure to salvage whatever you can and be ready, alright? ...Hello?"

Eventually, Rosemary hung up, a little disheartened at how her own family just nonchalantly hung up first without bothering to tell her they loved her. Still, she didn't hesitate to shake her husband awake, which didn't take but a few seconds.

"H-Huh? What's going on?" the man bolted up, looking around.

"Shhh! Junior be careful, you might wake Primrose," Rosemary replied. "Sorry I can't explain everything right now, but the family farm's been destroyed in a storm, and my folks need a place to stay. We have to send one of our private jets down to pick them up from Alabama."

"Well then say no more. Let's get to it." Junior climbed out of bed, donning some thin, gold-framed glasses over his chocolate-brown eyes as he made a beeline for the door. "It'd be nice to see you try and make amends with your family. Plus, I feel it's important for our kid to have both sides of her family in her life."

"Couldn't have said it better if I tried." Rosemary nodded as she followed him, already apprehensive about whatever possible situation might follow.