Winter Wishes

 

Stevie stared out of the frost fringed window at the snow encrusted ground outside. The moon was up, just a golden sliver, and it reflected on the snow with a quietly happy glow. The fir trees that encircled the small cabin in the woods were tipped with ice, looking for all the world like huge frozen alien creatures from an ancient planet.

Stevie sighed, turning away from the peaceful scene. His mother was knitting in the afghan covered wood rocker. Her brow was drawn in concentration - perhaps submersed in deep, contemplative thoughts, and her slightly pointed ears twitched.

"Mum?" No answer came from the chair, as she tapped foot vigorously against the floor to set the rocker a-rocking. "Can I go outside and see to Mitsie?" Still no answer. Stevie's shoulders dropped dejectedly. She was in one of those moods again. Moods where she was physically here, yet, not. She was far, far away. God only knew where she wandered on these starry nights.

Stevie wandered to the stout wooden door and reached up to the set of little pegs that held his winter coat and his mother's old grey woolen cloak. The coat stuck on the hook. Stevie was too short to reach all the way, so he tugged at it until it came free. Upon bundling himself up, he faced the rocker again. "I'm going out, Mum. I'll be back in a few minutes." No answer.

He shrugged, and turned the bronze door handle. The winter breeze whistled through the crack and hit him like a razor-edged sword. He hugged his ragged coat closer and stepped out into the snow, closing the door behind him. His boots crunched through the ice crust of the snow, sinking him up to his knees. Stevie looked around. There was the barn, with its cozy light and the contented whickerings of a well-fed pony. The night was clear, with the occasional burst of snow flurry brought up by the breeze. An icicle broke from a tree at the edge of the clearing and crashed to the ground.

Stevie struggled through the deep snow, his boots sticking in the deep winter snow. He had no inclination to walk to the barn in his stockings, so he held onto his boots with each step. This odd gait eventually got him to the great barn door. He reached up and lifted the bar across the door. It creaked open, and the warm lamplight greeted him.

Mitsie nickered a welcome and the barn cat, a stray who had taken a liking to this particular barn, meowed and rubbed against his leg. Stevie knelt and stroked the cat. "Ho, Cat." The striped tabby purred and followed him to Mitsie's stable door, hoping that maybe he had brought a bit of milk or cream. Stevie scratched Mitsie's ears and rubbed her soft snout. "No sugar lumps today, sorry. We haven't been able to make it to market lately. The snow, you know," he murmured. "that and Mum... she hasn't been around lately. I mean, well, she's here, but not. You know, Mitsie. You know about all that." He leaned against her sturdy head and wrapped his arms around her comforting neck.

Outside, a wolf howled. The sound brought Stevie back to reality. "Hold on a minute, Mitsie. I'll get your oats." He stumped through the barn, knocking off clumps of persistent sticky snow from his boots. Reaching the supply room, he dug deep in the hanging oat sack and filled up a measure. He dumped it in Mitsie's food bin. She snorted her thanks and was soon eating contentedly. He stayed for a few minutes longer, petting the barn cat, who seemed loathe to let him leave. Eventually, she curled up in a pile of soft hay and slept, undoubtedly dreaming of the countless spring barn mice she would catch in warmer weather, as her whiskers twitched.

Stevie left the barn, blowing out the lantern as he went. He pulled the door shut, and latched it behind him. Turning back to the house, he stopped abruptly. Where there had been only one set of footsteps before, there were two. One was obviously his, with the broken gully attributing to his trek to the barn. The other was bigger, yet lighter, skimming the snow crust without once breaking. Its trail continued out of sight, behind the cottage.

It was quiet. Very quiet. Stevie warily watched, but didn't feel any sense of fear. Indeed, he felt as if something in his life had suddenly become very right. But, just in case, he sludged toward a drooping fir and broke off a large icicle. It was cold, but the water melting from it froze it securely to his mitten. Thusly armed, he followed the strange set of boot prints.

Before he had gotten halfway to the cottage, the trail-maker stepped from around the corner. He was tall and big, Stevie noticed with trepidation. He was standing on top of the snow, his calf-high leather boots not even breaking through the frozen crust. He wore a knee-length coat that looked thick and warm, lined with white fur. There was a long, sheathed blade hanging from his side. He did not wear a cap, and white-blond hair streamed down to his shoulders. His eyes were kind, Stevie saw, and suddenly the man smiled and moved toward him.

Stevie took a rapid step backward, nearly falling, but caught himself, holding out the diminishing icicle in flimsy, curious defense. He looked up to the man's face. He was smiling broadly now, showing slightly crooked white teeth. Then the man spoke.

"Little Steven? Last time I saw you, you were still in the cradle." He smiled again, holding out a gloved hand. "Let's go see your Mum."

Stevie looked warily at the proffered hand, then back to the cottage. He distractedly wondered if he could make it to the front door and lock it before the man caught up. He thought not, but snuck another glance anyway.

And there was his Mum.

Clad in her thick, plaid gown with the blocked afghan thrown over her shoulders, she threw open the front door. She was laughing and crying and running toward the strange, cloaked man. Her afghan flew unheeded away from her, as she too, lightly skimmed the surface of the snow, her hair streaming gloriously behind.

"Craig?!" she ecstatically cried. "You came!" The man held out his arms, taking long steps toward her, going to meet her. They landed in a tangle of limbs, hair and clothing. Their lips fused, and in their passion, they completely forgot about Stevie, who stood still in a limbo of complete shock and bewilderment.

Finally, his Mum stepped back, tears happily blotting her vision. "You finally came back to us!" She hugged him fiercely again, before stepping back once again. She motioned proudly at Stevie. "This is your son!"

The man - Craig, as he was called, stooped to peer more closely at the small boy. "I can scarcely believe it." He glanced at the lady beside him. "He has your eyes, Evelyn." He smiled. "I knew he would."

The wind kicked up a flurry of snow. Craig looked around, saw his two companions shivering. "Let's go inside," he suggested.

The front door still stood open, allowing little heaps of snow to blow into the entry. Mum shoved the snow back outside, and they all stood awkwardly in the sudden silence and closeness of the room. Mum chuckled self-consciously. "I supposed you would like a hot drink," she said. She drew the man into the kitchen.

Stevie hung back by the door, slowly tugging off his mittens and boots. Craig came back to him a minute later. "Stevie... you didn't know you had a Fa, did you?" Stevie shook his head. "Well, you do. I'd like to show you all sorts of things - things every little boy should learn from a Fa. How would you like that?"

Stevie shrugged noncommittally and went to stand by the window pane again. It was still a clear night, and nothing was changed from earlier, except for the two tracks of boot prints on the snow crust. "How did Mum know you were here?" he asked. "She's done nothing all winter but sit in her chair. She didn't even hear me talking to her!"

"Well, it's a long story. She talked to me. Oh, not in person,“ he added, as he saw Stevie's unbelieving look. "She talked to me in my mind. She can do that - communicate mentally. She called me back home, coached me through a long and hard journey. It took a lot of energy on her part... She really saved my life. I should tell you about it sometime." He sighed.

Stevie didn't really know what he meant, but it sounded like a decent explanation - for now. There were more pressing issues at hand. He turned back to Craig. "How do you walk on snow? Mum too - I didn't know she could do that!"

Craig smiled. "It's a talent you learn when you become a little older. All wood elves learn how, at some point in their life. It helps when we hunt and track prey." He paused. "I can teach you how, if you'd like."

Stevie thought he would very much like to learn how, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Can you teach me how to fight with a sword like the one you have?"

"Maybe when you get a little larger than the sword itself." Craig smiled kindly.

Mum came into the room carrying three mugs of steaming hot cocoa. Each person got one, and stood sipping it slowly. Mum chuckled.

"Here's to winter," she said, toasting them. "And to granted wishes."

A brilliant smile seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her face as she nestled into Craig's arms and gazed happily up at him.

Stevie decided that he rather liked it.

 

Reviews

[Dalaina Renee]

Wonderful story! I enjoyed this!

[bluessadmood]

it is great how you describe the scenes ,lovely description,the cat slept dreaming of how many mice she could hunt when the weather gets warm,you add nice warm details to make it more real,one thing here ,i wonder at his father saying his mother called him mentally and was exhausted doing it and calling him here ,and he replying back to her saying it was a hard long journey ,it looks like so dreamy on both sides i think ,oh you sure have a great way of weaving a wonderful events ,i almost felt the freezing cold out there like a great despair i felt in the air among all and then everything gets bright and shiny all suddenly when they get together,nice way to end it,oh you do paint it wonderfully ,i really enjoyed your writing ,wonderful as always

[JLit]

I needed this one after The Manse. :)

[Brandon Meyers]

I really love winter stories. This makes me want to go write one right now. Good descriptors, and nice subtle plot unfolding.

[French Flair]

I loved it! The way you were able to describe the scenes are just amazing! To the point where I can actually see it. Hats off to you!