Snow
by Tanya Reed
Here's a short snippet I came up with at work today (though I was good and waited until I got home to write it). I hope that you enjoy it. In case you're wondering, I am pondering a sequel tentatively titled "After the Snow". I just finished this about five minutes ago, so please ignore its unbetaed state.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sydney or Nigel or the Relic Hunter, but the meadow and the snow are mine.
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It was almost dark as the two of them trudged back towards the inn, the soft snow sinking under their feet. It was cold and Nigel shivered slightly, glad the snow wasn't more than five centimetres deep.
Sydney walked slightly ahead of him, her dark form rigid. It had been a disappointing day with dead end after dead end until the two decided it would be better to start fresh in the morning. Sydney had been quiet the whole way back, and Nigel wished he knew the right thing to say to lift her spirits.
They were walking through a meadow ringed with trees. The freshness of the snow and the evening's stillness made it seem as if the whole world was untouched by man. Nigel stopped and took a deep breath, letting the surrounding beauty touch him.
Then, it hit him. He stood there staring at Sydney and had to do it. The impulse was just too strong to fight. Nigel knew that she would kill him, and usually he was a sensible and self-preserving young man, but at the moment it didn't matter. There she was, just ten feet away, a figure all in black in a sea of white. With a sigh, he gave in and crouched next to the ground.
The snow froze his fingers as that crazy impulse made him scoop it up and shape it into a ball. Before he could stop himself or change his mind, it was whizzing through the air. The ball of snow ended its journey with a quiet smacking noise as it hit the back of her head.
Nigel felt the blood drain from his face as Sydney stopped. She turned slowly, and he watched with held breath to see whether he lived or died. Sydney was hard to predict sometimes, and it was as common to see her laughing and playing like a child as it was to see her deadly serious, with angry, glittering eyes.
His stomach fell towards his boots at his first glimpse at her face. It was as still as stone, with one elegant eyebrow raised. Nigel felt as he had that time he mistakenly clonked her on the head with a thick book. He wondered if praying would be in order.
Suddenly, like the sun breaking out of winter-gray clouds, the most wicked grin he had ever seen crossed her face, and he knew he was in another kind of danger. He remembered how good her aim was and winced.
"You're dead, Bailey."
Sydney bent and started making snowballs, her gloved hands blurring with speed. In self defense, Nigel knew he'd better start doing the same. Her first one hit him in the chest. He took a hit to his hip, his forehead, and his stomach before he managed to brush her shoulder with a wild throw. He gamely stood for four more hits as he missed her twice completely before getting another solid hit--this time on her knee. Sydney's grin grew more wicked, and Nigel knew it was time to flee.
He turned, sliding slightly in the slippery snow, and began to run. One of Sydney's snowballs hit him in the back of the head as she said merrily, "You know you can't run from me."
The sound of her persuing made him run faster, but he knew she was right. She was faster than he was. He snuck a peek over his shoulder and saw her closing in, so he faked right and took off left.
"Hey!" She cried, whirling and starting after him.
He managed to avoid her like this for several minutes before he was hit by the enevitable--namely, her body crashing into his as she tackled him into the snow. Nigel struggled, though he couldn't stop smiling. Atop him, Sydney was laughing under her breath as she tried to wrestle him to the ground. He could tell she was trying not to hurt him and used this to his advantage, several times almost managing to wriggle away.
"Oh, no you don't," she declared, pinning his arms above his head with one hand and shoving snow into his jacket with the other.
"Sydney!" He cried, "That's bloody cold!"
"It was supposed to be. Now, say uncle."
"Fine. Uncle...aunt...cousin...grandma Sylvia...anything to stop this madness." Though he growled this, he knew his twinkling eyes betrayed that he was having as much fun as she was.
She grinned down at him before bending to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Though the rest of her was cold, her lips were surprisingly warm. He blinked at her, stunned.
"Thanks, Nige."
"For what?"
"Making me feel better about this crappy day."
She got off of him and helped him to his feet. Wet snow was starting to bite him like little needles. Her hands brushed much of it from his jacket and pants, but there was almost as much inside of his clothes as out.
"Come on," she said, "let's get back to the inn before we both catch pneumonia."
The end