(advent) December 6 – and I’m finally decorating!

[vg_ford]

Yeah, I know, I normally decorate the weekend after Thanksgiving. It’s been one of those years.

My cards aren’t done yet either. That’s tomorrow, I think.

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Bang!

The slamming of the front door jolted Drew from sleep. He lay there a moment longer, dazed, wondering what he’d heard. Then heavy footsteps clomped across the front hall and up the stairs. Whoever it was, it wasn’t the dainty Snow Queen.

He slipped from the bed and padded in his bare feet across the room to the door. It was still early; the sun was barely above the horizon, and the long rays only reached half-way across the bedroom, so the area by the door was still in shadow. Drew flattened himself against the wall next to the door as the footsteps came closer to his room. It was very obvious that whoever was coming wasn’t concerned about being sneaky.

The door opened and the same man who had surprised him at the cabin stepped into the room, still dressed in furs. Drew frowned. What was he doing here? Why come back?

“Good, you’re up,” the man said, turning around and looking at him. “Get dressed.”

“Why?” Drew asked. “Who are you?”

The man’s piercing blue eyes were cold, hard. “Don’t worry about that.” His voice cut through the room like a winter wind. “Get dressed. We’re going for a walk.”

“You’re the one I have to convince,” Drew guessed. “You’re the one who thinks that the humans shouldn’t be out on the Roads.”

The man nodded, but didn’t say anything. He just crossed his arms and waited.

“Fine.” Drew crossed back to the dresser that was on the other side of the bed. He looked over his shoulder. “You going to stay and watch me dress?”

“Modest, boy?” the man snorted, but turned to leave. “I’ll meet you down in the front hall. Dress warm.”

“Where are we going?” Drew asked, opening a drawer at random.

“Out,” the man said, and left.

“Well, that’s informative,” Drew grumbled, and went looking for his wool socks.

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“So, what did you find out?” Molly asked, cradling her tea mug in her hand. She and Schrodinger were hanging out in the living room after eating breakfast. The CrossCat was curled up on one of his cat beds, taking a leisurely bath. Molly herself was still in her pajamas, sitting in her wing chair with one leg slung over the arm. It was quiet in the apartment, a waiting stillness that was somehow languid and enervating at the same time.

Schrodinger didn’t answer at first, concentrating on his right hind leg. Molly recognized the fact that he was collecting his thoughts, and wondered just where he had gone the day before. He hadn’t come back until she’d gotten home from the bookstore, and he’d been tired; he had nearly fallen asleep in his bowl, and Molly had ended up carrying him into bed. So she waited, knowing he would tell her in his own time.

I went to see the Librarian, he said finally, finishing his bath. He jumped down from his bed and trotted over, jumping up into her lap.

“Who’s the Librarian?” she said, pulling a blanket from the floor so they could cuddle together.

She was my teacher, Schrodinger told her, snuggling down in her lap. The wisest of the CrossCats in my pack. One of the wisest CrossCats in the Realms.

“What did she say?” Molly loved to hear Schrodinger talk of his family. “And why did you go to see her?”

Because there is very little in the Realms that she doesn’t know. She listens, and people tell her things. All sorts of things. And she said there are dark things happening. Schrodinger paused. She said that the Snow Queen has been busy lately, trying to settle something.

“Settle something?”

Yes. The Librarian said there has been dissent in the Realms, old angers boiling over.

“But what does that have to do with Drew?” Molly asked. “Does she need him to be a diplomat? And why him?”

Schrodinger crossed his paws and put his chin down on them. The Librarian said Old Man Winter has been seen again.

“Who?”

Old Man Winter, Schrodinger repeated. He’s almost a legend. I’ve heard a lot of stories – some say he’s the father of the Snow Queen, others say that they are brother and sister. He’s been around as long as I can remember, and he brings the winter winds and snows. For a long time, he wouldn’t come out into the Realms – he’d just send his winds, or, occasionally, his wolves.

“His wolves?” Molly shivered. “Those sound dangerous.”

They are, Schrodinger agreed. They bring the winter storms, and I don’t know anyone who has encountered them and lived to tell about it. But the Librarian said that two days ago, Old Man Winter and his wolves were out on the Roads, and they were hunting. She said that the last time he went hunting, he destroyed an entire village.

“That’s when Drew went missing,” Molly said. “Do you think Old Man Winter took him?”

I don’t know, but it seems odd that suddenly Old Man Winter shows up, and Drew goes missing, Schrodinger said. Drew had a lot of plans for this month, and I don’t think he would have given them up lightly. But if Old Man Winter is bent on destroying something, then I could see Drew trying to stop him.

Molly thought about that as she stroked Schrodinger’s head. “Jade – the Snow Queen – told me that Drew was doing something very important,” she said thoughtfully. “And you say Old Man Winter likes to come out and destroy things. And the Gate that Drew was working on still isn’t responding.”

The Road moved, Schrodinger said. I went and checked, after I left the Librarian’s den. The Road definitely moved, and it wasn’t by accident. Someone ripped it from the Gate.

“That takes a lot of power.” Molly shivered. “Something Old Man Winter would have, especially now.”

Yes. And I checked out the way station that they were staying in. There’s magic all over it, Schrodinger said. And the only scents are Drew’s, the other two who were with him, and cold. Very cold.

Molly shivered again. “That doesn’t sound like what Jade said she did. That sounds like he was kidnapped.”

I think that’s what happened. Schrodinger shook his head. I think that someone told Old Man Winter that Drew would be there. And they waited for him. He paused again. Maybe Jade told her father, if he is her father, that he would be there, that he was the one who they needed to take. Which isn’t like her.

“Unless she knew he was the one that could stop Old Man Winter from destroying wherever he was going to destroy,” Molly said. “I could see that. Drew can be very persuasive.”

I don’t think it’s just Drew, Schrodinger said. Old Man Winter doesn’t negotiate – he destroys. When he decides to hunt, nothing stops him.

“Have you heard of any towns being destroyed?” Molly asked.

No, and neither had the Librarian. It was Schrodinger’s turn to shiver. Which means that he might still be hunting. And if he needed Drew…

Molly swallowed as his voice trailed off, and then finished his sentence. “Then maybe the town he’s hunting is Carter’s Cove.”

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They had been walking for over an hour. Drew didn’t know how long, exactly, but his toes and his fingertips were both numb, and it hadn’t been that cold out. He was carrying a heavy pack, weighted with God knew what, and following the strange old man through the woods. The old man had his own pack, as big as the one he’d handed Drew, but it didn’t seem to slow him down at all.

The sun was up now, and sparkling on the new snow. Drew had no idea where they were – he’d never visited the Snow Queen’s realm, but if this wasn’t it, he’d eat the hat the old man was wearing. He couldn’t ask, either; the pace was enough to keep him breathless. Not that the old man would answer any questions.

He was just about to ask anyways, when the old man stopped and held up his hand. “Wait,” the man said. “Don’t move.”

Drew tensed and looked around. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to scare her,” the old man snapped. “Stay here while I go in. Come in when I tell you.”

“Come in where?” Drew said, but the man was already gone, melting into the underbrush. After a moment, he spotted the game trail. What is going on?

As he waited, Drew realized something else – he didn’t hear anything. He could see the branches moving, showing where the old man was heading, but he didn’t hear any crunching of snow, no footprints. Who was this guy, anyways?

“All right,” he heard, after about 15 minutes of silence. “You can come back, but do it slowly. She knows you’re coming, but she’s not happy about it.”

Drew pushed his way through the underbrush. The fresh snow crunched under his feet; the old man hadn’t broken a trail to wherever he was. Fir tree branches scratched against his face and arms, filling the air with fragrance. Finally, he broke into a small clearing and saw who “she” was.

The old man was seated in the snow, but that wasn’t what caught Drew’s attention. Curled half in his lap was the smallest dragon he had ever seen. Of course, it was the only dragon he had ever seen, but still. He’d thought they’d be…bigger.

This dragon was about the size of a large wolf, or a small adult deer; she was sprawled in the snow, her jewel-toned head resting in the old man’s lap. Her wings were furled against her sinuous body, and she glimmered in the filtered sunlight. All in all, she was breathtaking.

“Careful,” the old man warned as Drew stepped into the clearing. “Don’t startle her. She’s in a lot of pain, and not feeling very charitable.”

The dragon’s head had shot up as the young tech came into the small glade; her sapphire eyes fastened on to him, freezing him in place. The faintest wisp of blue-grey smoke rose from one of her nostrils.

Drew saw why she was in pain immediately. Somehow, she’d been caught in a bear trap: the rusted iron teeth of the medieval device had sunk right through her magical scales, biting deeply into her flesh. The old man was supporting more than her head, but Drew noticed he was also keeping well away of the iron. Which is why he brought me along, he realized. I’m the only one who can take the touch of the iron.

Moving slowly, the way he had back on his parents’ farm around the horses they’d bred, Drew knelt down next to the dragon, trying not to flinch back from the feel of her gaze boring into his back. He eased the pack down and reached out to lay a hand on the trap.

“Easy, girl,” he said quietly, as he felt her flinch. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He continued to talk in the same calm, soothing voice he’d used on his father’s prized Percherons as he ran his fingers around the trap, wincing inwardly at the extent of the damage. The teeth had barely missed severing her leg.

“Can you get it off, boy?” the old man asked, using the same calm, quiet voice. He was stroking the dragon’s head. Other than a slight trembling of her body, she hadn’t moved, and Drew knew she was still watching him.

“Depends on what tools are in this pack you had me carry,” Drew replied, sitting back on his heels to study the trap some more. “And if she lets me put any pressure on the trap.”

Do what you need to, mortal. The voice in his head was softer, lighter than Schrodinger’s, but it rang with a resonance the CrossCat’s mental tone lacked. I will endure.

Drew dared to lay a hand on her flank, well away from the wounds. “I’ll be as careful as I can be,” he promised. Then he turned his attention to the pack. The old man had packed well – there was a large set of bolt cutters, as well as plenty of bandages and tubes of ointment. He pulled out the cutters, and positioned them on the end of one of the trap’s jaws, targeting the hinges.

One quick snap, and the trap sang as the edges of the metal parted. The next cut would be the tricky one – he stood up and, moving slowly, straddled her leg so he could get the other hinge. Another snap, and Drew tossed the bolt cutters aside.

Before he started to pull the teeth from her flesh, Drew knelt down beside her again. He couldn’t just lift the trap – whoever had built the wretched thing had serrated the teeth, which meant her scales and flesh were tangled within the metal. If he lifted it recklessly, he could sever her leg.

“This is going to be the hard part,” he warned her. “I’m going to go slowly, but it’s not going to be painless. I promise, I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

“The silver tube has a numbing agent in it,” the old man said. “Smear that on before you start.”

Drew did so, feeling the dragon’s scales shiver under his touch. Then he settled down in the snow and began the delicate, tedious task of removing the trap from her flesh.

It felt like hours later when he lifted the last bit of metal from the top part of the trap from her leg, and lifted it away. Then he looked at the old man and the dragon.

“In order to get the other one out, we’re going to have to move you,” Drew said to the dragon. “The other part of the trap is going to be even more embedded. Are you okay with moving?”

Yes, the dragon said, after a moment. But I will need help.

Between the two of them, the old man and Drew managed to turn her over with a minimum of jostling of her injured leg. In his head, Drew kept seeing, not the dragon, but Schrodinger, or one of the other animals from Carter’s Cove, trapped in the evil thing, and the rage grew in his chest. What kind of monster sets traps like this?

The old man spat on the ground next to him, away from the dragon. “Same kind that brings unrest to the Roads. There are always troublemakers around.”

And there are always friends who will help, the dragon said, laying her head on the old man’s shoulder. Don’t forget that, old friend. There is always a positive to the negative.

“Not always,” the old man said darkly. “Not always.”

Yes, always, the dragon replied. You just don’t always see them.

“Bah.”

Drew bent his head over the wound, his mind working as quickly as his fingers. The back and forth seemed to indicate that the two were friends, longstanding friends, but he had a hard time believing that the old man would have anything like a friend. Then again, he really hadn’t had any time to get to know the guy. Meh, Drew decided, not my problem.

You would be surprised, came that resonant voice in his head. Old Man Winter is a complex man, and his destiny is tied to yours.

What? Drew stopped and looked at the old man and the dragon. “Wait, you’re Old Man Winter?”

“Yep,” the old man said. “So what?”

After a moment, Drew bent back to his work. “So you’re the one who wants to destroy the Cove.”

“Yep.”

That one laconic word, casually dismissing the town that had taken Drew in, had sheltered him when he’d needed it, smoldered in his mind as he continued to pick the jagged teeth from the dragon’s flesh. “Why?” he asked finally.

“Because your people don’t understand about what the Roads are,” Old Man Winter said, still stroking the dragon’s head gently. “The Roads are supposed to bring peace, bring cultures together. All your people want is money, and war. Violence. Things like this.” He glared at the bloodied trap part lying in the snow.

“Because you never had issues before the humans got on the Roads,” Drew countered. “Life was just sunshine and roses, right?”

“It wasn’t as widespread,” the old man snapped. “Your people need to learn a lesson.”

Drew shook his head, and concentrated on what he was doing. The dragon was more important than arguing. But now I know a bit more about what the Snow Queen wanted me to do, he thought to himself. And I’m starting to see what I’m going to have to do to accomplish it.

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The glass doors of the Daughter of Stars Middle School (named after Captain Carter’s ship that he first sailed into the Cove, back before the current town had been formed) was decorated with thousands of paper snowflakes and snowmen, all drawn by the children who were even now squirming in their seats, sneaking looks at the clock and counting down the minutes until they were released. Molly knew exactly where most of them would run: right into the gymnasium, where dozens of table were set up, covered with amazing goodies.

She looked around Sue’s car, making sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind, and then heaved her last box of decorated cookies out of the trunk. Schrodinger was inside, guarding the other cookies with Sue – it should have been Drew helping, but well…We work with what we have, Molly thought grimly, pushing her way through the double doors. We can handle this. Luckily, Sue was willing to come and help.

She’d done more than that – Sue had shown up with tablecloths and placards with prices on them, done in brilliant Christmas colors. While Molly was getting the last of the cookies from the car, Sue and Schrodinger had claimed their three tables, and spread the cranberry red and evergreen plaid tablecloths out. One of the totes held silver trays; as Molly set down her box of cookies, Sue was already laying the trays.

“I figured you wanted me to do this,” she said, as Molly looked over her arrangements. “I haven’t touched the actual cookies yet.”

“That’s fine.” Molly stepped out and looked at the tables from the front with a critical eye. “It looks great so far!”

Around them, other folks were doing the exact same thing: putting out all sorts of homemade goodies, edible and not, onto tables. The proceeds would go to the school, and every year, the folks of the Cove pitched in. Well, most of them did.

Molly shook her head and started to put snowman cookies on one of the trays. “Put the snowflakes on that one,” she said to Sue, who went into another box. “The candy cane ones can be stood up in the vase in the tray box.”

Working quickly and in almost perfect sync, they had the tables set up in no time. Molly and Schrodinger had put their heads together to figure out exactly what kind of cookies to bring. It was the first time in several years that Molly had had the day off for the cookie sale, and she’d wanted to make sure she made every child’s day with her offerings.

“I also made these up for you,” Sue said, passing a stack of papers to Molly, who took them with a blank, puzzled look on her face.

“What – oh! Thank you!”

They were order forms, done in the same colors as the price cards, for Molly’s Christmas goodies. Every year, she took orders for cookies, cakes, scones and other baked goods, and every year, she’d sworn she was going to make order forms for them. She’d never gotten around to it. “What would I do without you?” she said, giving Sue a quick hug. “They’re perfect!”

Sue beamed. “And I have the template saved, so we can make more!” She also produced a couple of clipboards, with candy cane pens already attached. “I borrowed these from the museum, too. I thought we could use them.”

“I should hire you to be my business manager,” Molly said, laughing.

“I work cheap,” Sue replied. “I’ll settle for cookies every day!”

“Done!”

And then, from above, a harsh familiar buzzer sounded, and Molly and Sue got down to business.

It was a frantic rush, but a fun one: children and their parents wound through the passages created by the tables, oohing and aahing over the variety of goods available from all the tables. Molly’s cookies went quickly, and Sue collected a large stack of filled in orders.

“We’re going to be busy this December,” Molly said to Schrodinger, looking at the pile in Sue’s hands. “How many copies of those did you make?”

“Only one hundred,” Sue said. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Aunt Margie would kill me.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Molly?”

They all turned at the sound of the voice. There was a little girl standing in front of the table, her pale blue eyes looking past them, her delicate face alight with excitement.

Sarah! Schrodinger leaped out from behind the table and snuggled carefully up to the girl, who leaned down and unerringly hugged him. I was hoping you’d come!

“Of course I’d come,” she told him. “I have something to do.”

“You do?” Molly asked.

Sarah nodded. “It will only take a minute,” she said. “I have to do it quick, before Dad comes over.”

Considering her father was Police Sargent Jamie Carter, Molly grinned. “I have an idea of what it is,” she said, and Sarah giggled. “How many?”

“Mom said we could get two this year, and I’d like to make one a Christmas tree, if you could,” Sarah said.

“We can do a gingerbread Christmas tree,” Molly said, writing down the order. “Did you want the other one to be a regular gingerbread house?”

“Can you do the Gate station?” Sarah asked wistfully. “Mom said it’s beautiful.”

“Of course!” It would take a bit more gingerbread than the normal house, but for Sarah, Molly would do it. The little blind girl was one of her favorites, too. “For the week before Christmas?”

“Yes, please.” Sarah held out her hand, which held not only a check, but a small box. “And I was supposed to ask you to use this as a template for the ornaments.”

Taking the box, Molly frowned. “Okay.”

Then she saw the red envelope as she opened the lid. “Oh Sarah, you too?”

Sarah grinned. “Is it pretty?”

Molly lifted the envelope out, and then pulled out the ornament. This one was gold, with pearl beads interspersed in the webbing. “It’s beautiful,” she said, putting the ornament in the girl’s hand. “All gold, with bits of pearl.”

“It sounds lovely,” Sarah told her, running her fingers over the webbing. Then she handed the ornament back. “I can’t wait to see the tree.”

“I’ll make it shine,” Molly told her.

Sarah turned to leave, but then turned back, her sightless eyes bright. “He’ll be back, Molly. He said to tell you he loves you, and that he knows you’ll help.”

He knows you’ll help. Molly stiffened. That wasn’t what she was expecting.

But it was true. Ever since Schrodinger had told her what he’d found, she’d been turning over ways in her mind to help Drew. To get him home soon.

“You’re right,” she said now. “I’ll help.”

Sarah smiled and then ran off.

How will we help? Schrodinger asked, coming over to her.

“I don’t know yet,” Molly said, looking down at the little ball in her hand. “But we will.”

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Things are definitely changing!  What will Molly, Drew and Schrodinger have to do to convince Old Man Winter to change his mind?

Originally published at The words of Valerie Griswold-Ford. You can comment here or there.