Chapter 4

I wake to the chilling snow surrounding me, but none of it touching my body. I push my face out from the wet grass to find myself in the center of what remains of the cabin walls. The ceiling has been completely removed as the snowflakes float down towards me. Realizing what had just happened I spring up from the ground and spin around the little area of grass in search of Valiari, Candle Light or her Mother. However, they are nowhere in sight.

“Valiari! Candle Light!” I call.

Without a response I hopelessly take a breath to try and maybe calm myself. They’re all gone, vanished, and not a single trace of them is left behind. No prints no nothing. I press my hands against my head to force myself to remember what happened before I blacked out. Valiari and I had met Candle Light and her Mother, and a blizzard destroyed the cabin soon after. It just doesn’t make any sense. How could they have all been mysteriously swept away by the storm and I have been left here safe and sound? ‘What do I do?’ I repeat in my head. Just as apprehension overtakes me the feeling from before begins to resettle calming my heart and mind. It feels like a soft warm blanket is covering my body, and sticking my hand out past the grass is like entering a whole new world of cold. Turning my attention down to the grass I am stunned to find what is resting beneath the blades of grass. A yellow-green glow shines from behind them. The stone, Candle Light must’ve dropped it during the storm. The wind begins to pick up around me, and that voice flows with it yet again.

“I’ve had these for quite some time now; I used to collect these from a certain spot in the forest. I would just stare at these because of how beautiful they are. . . And every time I would watch them I felt something strange. . . It’s hard to explain. Here take a look.” It says.

With an anxious hand I reach down and wrap my fingers around the warm smooth stone. Hypnotized by the glow of its light I can see another image forming in my mind. I can see myself sitting in the middle of the room inside the wagon from before. I had just woken up from my time of sleep, and the mare . . . Trixie, is sitting in front of me with such elation.

“These stones glow all on their own, and I have no idea why. Here, take them. Perhaps you can show them off to the audience. You could even give one of the crowd members a stone if you wish, but please do not give them all away in one night. I could always go and collect more, but Trixie doesn’t want to have the chore of being the rock collector.” She says handing me a little brown sack, and I place it in my jacket pocket.

Trixie gave these to me so that I could use them during the show. To maybe impress the audience, but how could such an object have even been created? Where did this stone really come from? ‘A certain spot in the forest’ she said, possibly the vaguest way to explain where they came from. There was a whole sack she had given me, I wonder if there was more within it. Instinctively I reach into my right jacket pocket and feel around for the sack, but it is empty. What could have happened to the rest? Well, I’m lucky to be even holding one of them. As the vision in my mind dissipates I clench the stone tightly in my fist never to let go. I can’t just stand here like a statue the whole time. Valiari, Candle Light and her Mother are out there somewhere. Images of them freezing to death are flooding my mind. I try to shove back these horrid images of them collapsing in the snow by shutting my eyes and shaking my head. Then I am shot with a worrying memory. The hat, is it still around my body? Frantically I grip the rope across my chest and take a quick breath of relief.

Okay, just keep calm. I need to find help; yeah that’s what I need to do. But where am I going to find it? Everything surely has suffered the same fate as this little village. Taking a good long look around this frozen land my eyes are caught by the tall mountain where the castle rests. Valiari said that the two princesses that rule the land just might still be there. If anyone could be able to help me it would most surely be them. He even said that he would travel there himself, so there just might also be a chance that I’ll find him there as well. It sounds quite unlikely, but what other options do I have? I do not know if another blizzard will arrive soon, so I had better move quickly. With my mind set on the castle I take my first step out of many to come into the snow.

I do feel the cold, but the stone’s warmth is enough to make it bearable. If I were to want to really build up the heat I suppose I would have to find a place to rest so that the stone can do so. All this movement won’t assure me complete safety from the cold. I continuously glance up at the castle as I brush past tall pine trees that block half my vision of the sky so only the pointed roof can be seen. I’m trying to keep a straight path to the castle, but the farther I walk the farther the castle might as well be. For it doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. But I cannot stop now. I am bound to find something or someone soon. Until then my eyes are still set on the castle. I push myself through a wall of the pine trees as their needles jab my hands and cheeks, but the cold has numbed them so much that I can barely feel it. By now I am not sure how long it has been since I left Shine Village, but it might as well have been an hour if not longer. Glancing back I can see no sign of the village. Just pine trees and snow. At this point the cold is taking over the warmth of the stone. Everything around me all looks the same. It’s all just clusters of leafless trees and bushes coated in snow. The castle looks like it is just painted onto the sky forever out of my reach. Every muscle in my body is shaking, and the clouds of my breath floating through the air continue to remind me how deathly cold it really is.

My numb ears suffer through the cold and still strengthening winds, and in this wind they capture something else: fragments of voices that emanate from every direction just as before. At first they begin as low murmurs, and the first sound makes me stop and look around. Someone must be out there, perhaps more than one. But these voices are all around me, and they appear to be the exact same voice. This haunting female’s voice is enveloping me freezing me in my tracks. They keep growing louder pounding in my ears. I lower my head and clasp my hands over my ears as the voices crowd together overlapping one another. Why is this happening to me? What will it take to make the voices stop?! Then suddenly, they all silence. I am reluctant to remove my hands from my ears, so I lift them away cautiously. I raise my head, and I notice something in the distance between the tree trunks. A tall mare is standing dead ahead of me, staring at me. Her coat is a light shade of powder blue, and her short curled mane is even lighter. Her eyes are dressed with dark mascara and her body in a gorgeous white dress that matches the snow. Her eyes are locked onto mine, but before I can call out to her a gust of wind passes by her. Her body disperses into hundreds of little flakes of snow that are carried away by the wind, and the voices emerge yet again.

Out of shock and fear I turn around and sprint as fast as I can through the snow without a care of how much finds its way into my shoes and up the legs of my pants. I can feel the voices behind me chasing me. I find myself pushing my way through masses of tree branches as I find some of them smacking me in the face. Being pushed by pure adrenaline I continue to fight through them until finally, just a few trees ahead, there appears to be a wide clearing of land. Making my way through the last trees I lose my footing and slip down onto a declining slope of snow. I flare my arms and legs to maybe dig them into the snow and stop myself, but there is no way. I’m moving so fast and the hill is so steep it feels impossible. Trees are protruding up from the hill, so I try my best to glide my body around them. However my legs slam against one tree trunk that I could not see with all the snow blowing in my face. A shock of pain is sent through them as I scream my way down to the bottom.

My body lands into a thick pile of snow stopping my momentum. I moan from the sheer pain as if every bone in my legs has been shattered. While clenching my fists and my teeth I find that after all that time I was surprisingly still holding onto the stone. Despite the agony I can’t just lay here in this pit of snow. I push my arms out and dig my way through it trying to at least see the sky. Standing has now become impossible, so I drag myself with my arms to crawl out of the snow. Once I emerge from it I already feel exhausted, so I lay on my back trying to ignore the pain about my legs. Gently I lay my hands on my legs almost instinctively to maybe relax them. My left leg is in total agony so I quickly withdraw my hand from it, but my right . . . strangely the pain is easing away. Oddly enough, my right hand is in possession of the stone. I glide my hand up and down my leg and within a matter of minutes the pain has suddenly disappeared. Feeling uneasy I carefully bend my knee, and I am in bewilderment as I can bend it without a single dose of anguish. I glare at the stone in my hands full of questions, but still in pain I try to lay the stone against my left leg. Sure enough the pain subsides until completely disappearing. Ever so carefully I push my hands against the snow to help me stand. My legs feel brand new as if the injury never existed. Just what is this stone exactly? What else is this thing capable of? Well, knowing that there are some incredible special properties about it I will be sure to keep it safe no matter what.

As I grip the stone in my fist I notice that the voices have stopped, but the winds reawaken. The snow is beginning to fall heavily ensuring that another storm is brewing. I need to find some kind of shelter and quickly. I don’t want to be out in the open when the storm grows to its worst. I walk through the snow scanning the area for a hole or a crevasse I can rest in until the storm blows over, but my searching takes far too long as the winds grow so strong they could almost push me down to the ground. Just as it all begins to feel hopeless as the light about the sky fades to darkness my eyes are granted with a hopeful sight. Through the clouds of snow it seems a broken carriage sits ahead. With the collar of my jacket over my mouth and arms across my chest I push my way to the carriage. The back end of it looks busted open, so I crawl inside and huddle myself against the back wall.

It’s dark, but the green light from the stone is peaking through the spacing between my fingers. I hold the stone out to illuminate the little room. I find that not the entire floor has been sheeted in snow, but there isn’t much of anything else. Behind me I find that there is a door. It just might be a good spot to hide from the cold, so I turn the handle and stick my head inside. It looks like a very strange room to have in a carriage. Inside is an array of levers and pulleys and against the wall is some kind of motor. I have no idea what all of this was used for, but there are windows in the room with small velvet curtains hanging from them. It’s chilly, but much better than the previous room. I find a little countertop where I can lay my bag. I don’t know how long this storm will last, but by peaking through the curtains it doesn’t look like it will be letting up any time soon.

Walking over to the countertop my shoes crush something that sounds like glass. Lifting my foot up from the ground I see that there are a couple shards of glass on the ground. There is a much more intact piece of what used to be a glass vase in the corner. Scattered along the floor are several wilted flowers. It reminds me of the vase full of dying flowers I saw when I was in the wagon seeing things. I still wonder if any of which I saw and went through back there was at all real. I feel compelled to bend over and pick up one of the flowers. Holding it in my hands gives me this feeling that I’ve held it before.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The voice I heard back in the wagon speaks as my eyes become entranced by the flower. “So, before we . . . What is this? D-did you do this?”

“They’re for you.” My voice says.

“For me. . ? Why, they’re. . . They’re gorgeous. W-where did you get these. .? You really did this for me? Why that’s. . . That’s very kind. Umm. . . Th-thank you.”

These flowers, I . . . I gave them to her. I remember, they were a gift from me. It was a warm sunny morning, and I had just woken up in the wagon. The same one that Valiari brought me to. I felt so grateful to her that I wanted to surprise her with something. So I unlatched the door and snuck out into the woods. I searched for the brightest and most beautiful flowers that I was sure Trixie would love. They needed to be perfect for her I wasn’t ready to accept anything less. Just remembering this sends my heart aflutter. She looked so surprised to see them on the desk. She kept pausing between her words because of how flattered she was. I could tell that she loved them, and I couldn’t have been happier. I drop my bag to the ground and lean against the wall with the flower clutched in my hands. I can feel my eyes beginning to quiver and breathing becoming difficult. I don’t want to let this flower go, it holds so much to me.

To my side is the countertop, but below it I never noticed the little drawer. Curiously I pull it open and peek inside. It is full of empty spaces, but in the center lays a small carefully folded sheet of paper. I pull it out and inspect it a bit. It seems to have been crumpled up before, but is now neatly folded. I open the little paper and find a little note scribbled on its crumpled surface:

My dearest,

Do not let your dreams slip through your hooves, and do not let tears fill your life. You have a strong spirit, let it stay that way. I know you hate being alone, and I know I won’t be there to guide you through any rough times anymore. But you need to remember that you’re not alone in this world. If ever you feel like you cannot get through, then do not be afraid to call for help. You’ll find a friend to guide you I promise. It’s only a matter of time until you two meet.

The second sentence is what draws most of my attention. ‘You have a strong spirit, let it stay that way.’ That was what I said to Candle Light that day. I read it from this note. I . . .  I remember I found it crumpled up in the corner of the wagon. Trixie came in and saw me reading it. She tore it out of my hands and scolded me for it. That was when she shoved me behind the curtain and gave me instructions on what to do and what to wait for. I remember her voice demanding I keep quiet until the smoke filled the stage. My mind is cluttering with voices and images, I just need to find some serenity. With my eyes still glued to the note I lay myself down onto the wooden floor laying the stone near my body. As soon as my head meets the wood I shut my eyes to maybe escape from this. Just for a minute perhaps. But it only helps me see more clearly than before; a new scene begins playing about in my head.

I was lying down just like this with the tall grass hugging my body, and Trixie was lying right next to me. It was this particular night that felt so special. The stars were flooding the sky as blue and purple hung like curtains behind them. The Moon and her stars rejoiced in such revelry with their magnificent light. The both of us were staring up at the stars until suddenly a star shot across the sky with such speed it left a trail of light behind it.

“A shooting star! It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of those. . . You do know what happens when you see one don’t you?” She asked, but I confusedly shook my head. “Well, once you see one you’re supposed to close your eyes and then make a wish. . . Of course I never believed in such a thing.”

“Why?” I asked in a low voice.

“. . . Because whenever I would see one . . . I would shut my eyes and almost cry. . . My wishes would never come true no matter how hard I wished, and no matter how long I waited. . . Why don’t you give it a try? Maybe it’ll work for you.”

I can feel the tears beginning to bleed through my shut eye lids no matter how tight I hold them.

“. . . I don’t need a shooting star.” I said.

“What? . . . Why not? Don’t you want a wish?”

“. . . You’ve already granted me my wish.”

“. . . G-goodnight.” She says nervously while turning over and pulling her cape over her head.

I felt guilty like I had said something wrong, so I decided to just shut my eyes and go to sleep and dream away. It was difficult to drift away to sleep, because I could hear Trixie quietly sobbing under her cape. I did not know why, but I did not mean to make her cry I just wanted to maybe fill her with happiness like she had done for me. Filled with guilt and confusion I forced myself to sleep, but I was awoken by a sound creeping though the wind. I stood up and noticed that Trixie was missing; only her indentation in the grass was left behind. The sound was coming from the front of the wagon, so I snuck up to it and leaned my ear near the window to hear it much more clearly. It was the sound of weeping, and then a sorrowful voice.

“You were right. . . You were always right. . . I wish that you could see me now. . . To see the. . .” A long pause is then drawn out. Confused I held my ear even closer to the window. “. . . To see the friend I have made. I wish you could see. . . I-I. . . I love you Mom. I miss you so much. . .”

The sound of the gentle folding of paper followed afterwards, and I hurried back to the grass and pretended to be asleep. Trixie came out from the wagon and sat next to me as I did my best to remain motionless.

“. . . You weren’t exactly as I had pictured. . . But still . . . Just when I was ready to give up. . .” She says.

The tears are pouring out of my eyes at this point and landing onto the piece of paper. I fold it and hold it along with the flower against my chest. Trixie and I . . . were friends. She was my only friend, and as I far as I knew I was ‘her’ only friend. We were so close, and now look at what has happened. If only I could go back and relive those moments. I want to see her again, I just. . . I curl my body and try to wipe away the tears, but they are quickly replaced with new ones. I miss her to an unbelievable extent. I just want to see her again; I want to be next to her. She brought me so much comfort and safety, and now I desperately need it again.

“. . . Trixie . . .” I whisper aloud.

With the sound of wind whistling outside and tears chilling amongst my cheeks I begin to drift away into my much needed escape. But I cannot dream sweetly, not with tears. Trixie is out there somewhere, she just has to be. I refuse to believe that she has fallen victim to the harsh cold. I must find them, all of them, and I will not stop until I do. When morning comes I will push myself to that castle. I hope that help is waiting there.