The Storm
Her new room suited her very well. It was much more cheerful than the big room with the smoky air from the fireplace and the dirt floor that always smelled a little burned and a lot musty. The room was functional for shelter from bad weather, but otherwise grimy and hazy in the dim light from the one small window or the one sputtering oil lamp after nightfall. Her room had a window all for her pleasure and it even had a small latch that she could open to let in a little fresh air on the sunny days.
Before she had the loft room, on the warm days when the mama and papa had work to do in the house, she was shooed outside to play but on the cold days, she was left in the crib to be out of their way. The crib was a dull and stifling place to pass an afternoon. Her new quarters made her feel like a wizard in a tower commanding the house and all she could see below her personal window.
The little room had some other wonderful advantages too. The papa built a small wooden box to hold her things and placed two pegs on the wall for her dress and her nightshirt. She had placed all her treasure in the box–perfectly shaped pinecones, pretty polished stones from the little brook, the penny whistle the papa had given and a spare dress made by the mama for her cornhusk dolly. She’d found a few beautiful feathers caught on bushes, blue jay blue, cardinal red, and oriole orange, all carefully arranged in her treasure box.
On mornings when she rose early enough to see the darkness melting in the pale glimmer before sunrise, she would thrust her bare feet out of bed and onto the ice-cold floor, dart to the treasure box to retrieve two feathers then bound across to her bed again. With one leap she would mount her bed then gazing through the window, she raised her magic feathers and wove them through the air in a mystical pattern of her own design. At first a pale ball of snow could be seen, sparkling weakly through the ice but then as she lifted the snowball above the trees it grew warmer and brighter until it caught fire and illuminated the whole sky. She made it spread the colors of spring across her kingdom, the pale reds, pinks, and periwinkles of the wild flowers.
When the blue became deep enough, she settled back into the warm covers. The deepening blue sky meant her magic would stay. Her snowball would stay lit and warm and not melt into the forest. The morning spell was her favorite and her best. It made her truly happy even if it was a little exhausting for such a small wizard.
The dawn magic is how she first happened to catch sight of Barrru and how he first knew of her. He had been exploring a little beyond his usual territory one early morning when he caught scent of a human house. He had some small amount of experience with the masters on two legs so that he knew the smell instantly. He also knew enough to mistrust the two-legged ones but he was curious enough about them as well as hungry enough to wonder if he might find any good tidbits to eat near their cabin. Quietly he crept near as only an experienced wolf can creep. He found the pile of discarded scraps around back just as he knew that he would.
Cautiously he examined the scrap pile for tasty morsels. When he found a nice bit to eat, he snatched it into his teeth then hastily looked about to be sure he was still alone. And so it was he chanced to see the little girl, standing at her window right above the spot where he stood. He dared not move a muscle. The moon was especially large and bright and still hung imposingly against the morning sun, which meant she’d spot him for certain. He stood frozen to the spot looking up almost into her eyes. She was waving her pretty feathers at the rising sun and as he watched her perform her magic, something about her seemed to weave the magic around him as well.
What she saw as she looked into those amazed chocolate eyes for the first time was a miraculous snow statue of an animal she did not know. Because she had never seen such a creature, she quite naturally thought she had somehow raised him as she raised the sun. He stayed entranced below her window as the sun gained strength then vanished as it burst into golden flame.
She rose early every day without fail after that. She wanted to recreate the magic but dawn after dawn passed without success. At last, one morning when she was especially sleepy and the full moon was lingering in her window while she raised her magic snowball, she heard a mournful sound below her window. The magical snow beast had returned but she could see by the light of the moon that he was not made of snow after all. He was very handsome with his tawny soft fur glistening in the moonlight. He seemed to be singing to the moon while she coaxed the sun to life. She believed he was a fellow wizard, enchanting the moon to remain even after the night melted into the forest.
The dawn meeting became routine for the pair. If she should chance to oversleep, he would call to her with, “Barrru, barrru, barrru”. She would spring to her feet, throw open her little window and answer with, “Arrrooo, arrrooo, arrrooo”. Down deep she knew he was saying his name to her and she was simply trying to confirm that she understood but because she was only little and had not yet learned to truly speak she could not perfectly shout his name. Barrru believed she was answering with her own name and so this is how he came to know her.
One day she heard the mama and the papa talking about the dark storm to the north that she could plainly see approaching the kingdom from her tower. She could hear the winds howling around the cabin already. She knew they were talking about the weather because their voices were fearful and they kept going outside then coming back shaking their heads. She tried to open her window to see better what fearsome thing was coming but a great force seemed to hold it closed. She pressed hard against the frame, and it gave a little, enough so that she heard the roar of the approaching storm.
She backed away, let the window slam closed, and sank into her covers. She had a new and eerie sensation that seemed to creep in through her chilled fingertips. Real fear had crawled into her middle and made her shiver with its touch. Then two more new sensations gripped her, worry and compassion. She thought of the animals and the forest and most especially of Barrru, facing the approaching fury with very little or no shelter.
She tried her best to think of some way to help them all but she knew there was no magic in her treasure chest that could oppose the storm or even hold it at bay. She thought of going into the forest but she knew the papa and the mama would never permit her to leave the cabin. She glanced ruefully at her magic feathers, wishing with all her heart that she could bring the sun back and still the winds.
She resigned herself sadly to saying her wishes to the magic feathers–wishes for protection for all of her friends, the mama, the papa, and herself. She held her dolly and waited with eyes wide and very far from sleep.
The roar of the storm seemed to draw closer with each breath she took and as it neared the moments stretched out until the coming blow was agonizingly slow in landing. Then as quickly as breathing out, the storm hit.
She pulled the blanket up over her ears, trying her best to push the sound away. The papa’s deep voice called out from the darkness below one strange sounding word, “Blizzard!” and then, “May God keep us all!” The sound of the storm’s rage and the strange new sounds from the papa battled in her mind. She had as little understanding of one as the other.
The little cabin shivered in the storm’s jaws but would not surrender. The roof creaked under the weight of heavy snow and ice but it would not crack. The walls groaned under the blasts of wind but held fast. The usually soft comforting sound of snowfall was changed by the driving wind into a merciless giant, gnashing his teeth and crushing with his fists whatever pleased or displeased him.
The starless night had gripped them all, the forest, the animals, the mama, the papa, the little house, and herself. Each in their way uttered magic words or prayers to drive away the monster or pleas for protection from it. The storm, just as blind in the dark as those cowering from it, seemed at times to double back then stumble as though looking for something or someone it was unable to find. Maybe frustration with its search increased the monster’s anger for it seemed to come with even greater fury at all of them as the hours passed.
Just as she began to feel sleep creeping over her, the thunder began. But it was not the usual sort of thunder, the booms were on either side of the cabin and the rolling growl was very near and right over her head. The snow above had piled up so deeply that its own weight was forcing it to slide off the sloping roof and then diving onto the ground below with a heavy, “Boom, boom, boom!” She was wide awake again. She sat up, determined to keep watch.
Her eyes peered cautiously over the blanket’s edge toward the place where there should have been starlight or moonlight or even the vague light in stormy clouds. But there was only the dark. She kept watch as the time drifted by and the storm marched overhead and all around. She watched in the darkness, a great frightening nothing, and after a while she heard the soft sound of the mama’s snoring and the rough sound then soft whistle of the papa sleeping soundly.
Then she realized that the storm must have gone to sleep too because she could hear her own breathing and all the other usual soft night and early morning sounds. There was a playful breeze swishing through the snow on the roof and there was rosy dawn light streaming over her and pooling on her bed. She was amazed. Her pretty little window was now covered almost completely with ice. She sprang up and tried to open it but it was stuck fast. She stretched up on tiptoe and craning her neck was even more amazed by the sight outside. Snow had piled right up to her window and a pair of soft brown eyes were looking back at her.
Chapter Three
Her new room suited her very well. It was much more cheerful than the big room with the smoky air from the fireplace and the dirt floor that always smelled a little burned and a lot musty. The room was functional for shelter from bad weather, but otherwise grimy and hazy in the dim light from the one small window or the one sputtering oil lamp after nightfall. Her room had a window all for her pleasure and it even had a small latch that she could open to let in a little fresh air on the sunny days.
Before she had the loft room, on the warm days when the mama and papa had work to do in the house, she was shooed outside to play but on the cold days, she was left in the crib to be out of their way. The crib was a dull and stifling place to pass an afternoon. Her new quarters made her feel like a wizard in a tower commanding the house and all she could see below her personal window.
The little room had some other wonderful advantages too. The papa built a small wooden box to hold her things and placed two pegs on the wall for her dress and her nightshirt. She had placed all her treasure in the box–perfectly shaped pinecones, pretty polished stones from the little brook, the penny whistle the papa had given and a spare dress made by the mama for her cornhusk dolly. She’d found a few beautiful feathers caught on bushes, blue jay blue, cardinal red, and oriole orange, all carefully arranged in her treasure box.
On mornings when she rose early enough to see the darkness melting in the pale glimmer before sunrise, she would thrust her bare feet out of bed and onto the ice-cold floor, dart to the treasure box to retrieve two feathers then bound across to her bed again. With one leap she would mount her bed then gazing through the window, she raised her magic feathers and wove them through the air in a mystical pattern of her own design. At first a pale ball of snow could be seen, sparkling weakly through the ice but then as she lifted the snowball above the trees it grew warmer and brighter until it caught fire and illuminated the whole sky. She made it spread the colors of spring across her kingdom, the pale reds, pinks, and periwinkles of the wild flowers.
When the blue became deep enough, she settled back into the warm covers. The deepening blue sky meant her magic would stay. Her snowball would stay lit and warm and not melt into the forest. The morning spell was her favorite and her best. It made her truly happy even if it was a little exhausting for such a small wizard.
The dawn magic is how she first happened to catch sight of Barrru and how he first knew of her. He had been exploring a little beyond his usual territory one early morning when he caught scent of a human house. He had some small amount of experience with the masters on two legs so that he knew the smell instantly. He also knew enough to mistrust the two-legged ones but he was curious enough about them as well as hungry enough to wonder if he might find any good tidbits to eat near their cabin. Quietly he crept near as only an experienced wolf can creep. He found the pile of discarded scraps around back just as he knew that he would.
Cautiously he examined the scrap pile for tasty morsels. When he found a nice bit to eat, he snatched it into his teeth then hastily looked about to be sure he was still alone. And so it was he chanced to see the little girl, standing at her window right above the spot where he stood. He dared not move a muscle. The moon was especially large and bright and still hung imposingly against the morning sun, which meant she’d spot him for certain. He stood frozen to the spot looking up almost into her eyes. She was waving her pretty feathers at the rising sun and as he watched her perform her magic, something about her seemed to weave the magic around him as well.
What she saw as she looked into those amazed chocolate eyes for the first time was a miraculous snow statue of an animal she did not know. Because she had never seen such a creature, she quite naturally thought she had somehow raised him as she raised the sun. He stayed entranced below her window as the sun gained strength then vanished as it burst into golden flame.
She rose early every day without fail after that. She wanted to recreate the magic but dawn after dawn passed without success. At last, one morning when she was especially sleepy and the full moon was lingering in her window while she raised her magic snowball, she heard a mournful sound below her window. The magical snow beast had returned but she could see by the light of the moon that he was not made of snow after all. He was very handsome with his tawny soft fur glistening in the moonlight. He seemed to be singing to the moon while she coaxed the sun to life. She believed he was a fellow wizard, enchanting the moon to remain even after the night melted into the forest.
The dawn meeting became routine for the pair. If she should chance to oversleep, he would call to her with, “Barrru, barrru, barrru”. She would spring to her feet, throw open her little window and answer with, “Arrrooo, arrrooo, arrrooo”. Down deep she knew he was saying his name to her and she was simply trying to confirm that she understood but because she was only little and had not yet learned to truly speak she could not perfectly shout his name. Barrru believed she was answering with her own name and so this is how he came to know her.
One day she heard the mama and the papa talking about the dark storm to the north that she could plainly see approaching the kingdom from her tower. She could hear the winds howling around the cabin already. She knew they were talking about the weather because their voices were fearful and they kept going outside then coming back shaking their heads. She tried to open her window to see better what fearsome thing was coming but a great force seemed to hold it closed. She pressed hard against the frame, and it gave a little, enough so that she heard the roar of the approaching storm.
She backed away, let the window slam closed, and sank into her covers. She had a new and eerie sensation that seemed to creep in through her chilled fingertips. Real fear had crawled into her middle and made her shiver with its touch. Then two more new sensations gripped her, worry and compassion. She thought of the animals and the forest and most especially of Barrru, facing the approaching fury with very little or no shelter.
She tried her best to think of some way to help them all but she knew there was no magic in her treasure chest that could oppose the storm or even hold it at bay. She thought of going into the forest but she knew the papa and the mama would never permit her to leave the cabin. She glanced ruefully at her magic feathers, wishing with all her heart that she could bring the sun back and still the winds.
She resigned herself sadly to saying her wishes to the magic feathers–wishes for protection for all of her friends, the mama, the papa, and herself. She held her dolly and waited with eyes wide and very far from sleep.
The roar of the storm seemed to draw closer with each breath she took and as it neared the moments stretched out until the coming blow was agonizingly slow in landing. Then as quickly as breathing out, the storm hit.
She pulled the blanket up over her ears, trying her best to push the sound away. The papa’s deep voice called out from the darkness below one strange sounding word, “Blizzard!” and then, “May God keep us all!” The sound of the storm’s rage and the strange new sounds from the papa battled in her mind. She had as little understanding of one as the other.
The little cabin shivered in the storm’s jaws but would not surrender. The roof creaked under the weight of heavy snow and ice but it would not crack. The walls groaned under the blasts of wind but held fast. The usually soft comforting sound of snowfall was changed by the driving wind into a merciless giant, gnashing his teeth and crushing with his fists whatever pleased or displeased him.
The starless night had gripped them all, the forest, the animals, the mama, the papa, the little house, and herself. Each in their way uttered magic words or prayers to drive away the monster or pleas for protection from it. The storm, just as blind in the dark as those cowering from it, seemed at times to double back then stumble as though looking for something or someone it was unable to find. Maybe frustration with its search increased the monster’s anger for it seemed to come with even greater fury at all of them as the hours passed.
Just as she began to feel sleep creeping over her, the thunder began. But it was not the usual sort of thunder, the booms were on either side of the cabin and the rolling growl was very near and right over her head. The snow above had piled up so deeply that its own weight was forcing it to slide off the sloping roof and then diving onto the ground below with a heavy, “Boom, boom, boom!” She was wide awake again. She sat up, determined to keep watch.
Her eyes peered cautiously over the blanket’s edge toward the place where there should have been starlight or moonlight or even the vague light in stormy clouds. But there was only the dark. She kept watch as the time drifted by and the storm marched overhead and all around. She watched in the darkness, a great frightening nothing, and after a while she heard the soft sound of the mama’s snoring and the rough sound then soft whistle of the papa sleeping soundly.
Then she realized that the storm must have gone to sleep too because she could hear her own breathing and all the other usual soft night and early morning sounds. There was a playful breeze swishing through the snow on the roof and there was rosy dawn light streaming over her and pooling on her bed. She was amazed. Her pretty little window was now covered almost completely with ice. She sprang up and tried to open it but it was stuck fast. She stretched up on tiptoe and craning her neck was even more amazed by the sight outside. Snow had piled right up to her window and a pair of soft brown eyes were looking back at her.
Chapter Three
Through Her Window
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