"Dad!" Skylar woke up with a gasp of fear. The nightmare was the same every night. She glanced around; half hoping that there would be streetlights outside. Nothing.
Adrenaline was flowing fast. She looked at her new watch. Dale had given it to her. Not really antique, but completely clockwork. She kept it wound, and it told her that it was still five hours to dawn.
Swearing under her breath, she threw back the covers and almost screamed at the cold.
'Gonna be a long winter.'
There was a low moan from three rooms away. Dale.
"Poor guy." Skylar whispered. Her voice made no sound, but let out a cloud of steam. Either the cold or the nightmare had made her mouth go dry.
"Cold cold stupid icy cold bad cold." Skylar chanted as she got up and wrapped her robe, then her mom's robe, then a towel around herself.
She went into the kitchen, dipped a glass into the bucket of freshwater in the sink and took a sip, hissing in pain from the chill. The water in the bucket was icing over.
On the way back she saw the blinds in the living room were still up. Briefly she wondered if the cold from outside was seeping in, and went to close them, finding Dale on the couch. She had told him he could sleep on her couch when he stormed out of Gracie's, but she meant he could have a guest room, they had four of them, plus her parents room.
He had fallen asleep on the couch, right where she had left him six hours ago. He was slumped over against the arm of the couch, and Skylar noted distantly that it was a good thing that her dad had bought such a plush lounge-suite.
For a long moment, she found herself staring at him. 'Whoa, down girl.' She told herself firmly.
His eyes were dancing back and forth under his eyelids, he looked scared. She put the blanket over him.
Distantly, she noticed that he was still wearing the sweatshirt he wore when he stormed out of Gracie's. It suddenly struck her that his home had burned down. He was wearing everything he owned.
"Why didn't you ask dummy?" she muttered. Her dad's clothes wouldn't really fit, but it would be enough to keep him from freezing to death at least.
For a long moment, Skylar debated what to do. If she woke him up, he'd go back to staring out the window again. If she left him, he'd freeze to death. She certainly couldn't carry him to his room.
She leaned closer when he moved, and saw his hands were trembling from the cold, his fingers and lips had turned blue.
With that settled she went into his room, came back with the blankets and put them over him, then shifted his feet so that she could sit down next to him.
She settled herself, and checked. His eyes were open, staring at her. "Don't wake up."
He shut his eyes again, still too out of it to argue, but at least half awake was enough to release him from the dreams. She took his hands and held them between her own to keep them from trembling, shocked again at how cold he felt.
There was a book on the floor next to his head. The moon was bright enough to make out the words. it was a library book. About how settlers made wood burning stoves in their homes without burning them down.
She smirked at him and put the book down. "Good idea, but try finding a contractor these days."
He was dreaming again. She squeezed his hand a little tighter, enough to half-wake him. "Don't wake up." She told him, and he quickly fell fully asleep again.
'Last time I was up this late on a night this cold, I was four.' Skylar thought to herself. 'I had chickenpox, and my mom had to sit with me the entire night to keep me from scratching.'
He was dreaming again. She shook him awake gently. "Mom?"
"Don't wake up." She told him again, and he shut his eyes, still not really awake.
She settled back into her chair. 'It snowed that night too.' Skylar smiled at the memories. Her mom's voice came back to her as she dozed.
"Dancing bears, Someone holds me safe and warm.
Painted wings,
Things
I almost remember,
And a song someone sings
Once upon a
December.
Horses prance
through a silver storm.
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my
memory..."
Time passed and Skylar got comfortable
enough in her seat to doze herself.
After a while, something woke her up lightly, and Skylar noticed it was snowing.
Dale's shifting had woken her.
The blanket had slipped, the cold slicing into her again. Without really waking up she pulled the blankets back up under her chin. Dale was dreaming again.
She squeezed his now warmer hands gently, and he opened his eyes slightly. "Mom?"
"Don't wake up." She told him again, and he shut his eyes, still not really awake.
Trying to hold onto her own dream, Skylar started humming to herself.
"Someone
holds me safe and warm. Far
away, long ago, And a song
Horses prance through a silver
storm.
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory...
Glowing dim as an ember,
Things my heart
Used
to know,
Things it yearns to remember...
Someone
sings
Once upon a December..."
Skylar woke up
fully with a start. Daylight came in the windows. Dale was nowhere to
be seen, and the blankets were all wrapped around her.
Dale peeked in, saw her awake, and ducked back out, returning a moment later holding out toast. "Breakfast."
"Thanks."
Long silence.
She took a bite of toast. "Where'd this come from?"
"Cooked it over the fire. Sorry about the singed crusts."
"We need a fire stove in the house, especially if it's only going to get colder." Skylar said, matter-of-factly. She picked up the book from the floor. "Think we can do this?"
"It's your house."
"It's going to be a long winter."
"Yeah it is."
THE END
