Title: The First Snowfall
Day/Theme: 5th September/"a winter morning just like any other"
Series: A Little Princess
Character/Pairing: Sara, Becky, post-novel
Rating: G/U
The air was chilly when Sara's eyelashes fluttered open and unconsciously she snuggled closer into the bedclothes. Upon fully awakening, however, she sat up and saw that it was early in the morning and indeed, her bedchamber was still dark. Shivering a little, she pulled the blankets up to her chin, but then was assailed by a sudden thought. Throwing them off, she darted out of bed and over to the window, pushing the heavy drapes aside to look out.
"Oh!" she gasped, hugging herself. The streets were covered in white, shining snow, barely touched by people, though someone was clearly up by now and had started the day. Sara wondered who it was. Had they delighted in it as she did? Or had they groaned to see it, they who already had to work so hard?
Sara let the curtain fall from her grasp and hurried over to the door where her red silk robe was hanging. Pulling it round her, she slipped into the adjoining room, where Becky slept, and crept to her friend's bedside. She shook Becky's shoulder and she woke, years of training having ingrained both the habits of sleeping lightly and of waking early.
"Becky," she whispered, "come and see! It's been snowing!"
Becky pushed back the covers and crawled slowly out of bed. Sara caught her elbows and pulled her into her room, Becky blinking her eyes free of sleep as she followed eagerly.
"Oh, it's beautiful, miss," she breathed, when Sara had shown her. "Like in that story about the snow queen, and 'ow it must of been like when she was taking that little boy on her sleigh. You can't hardly see it's Lunnon at all. Looks like," she stopped a moment, then remembered she was talking to Sara, "looks like Fairyland must, miss."
"Oh, yes," Sara agreed, enchanted. "And perhaps the Queen will come down the street, her sleigh flowing so easily over the snow that it looks like she's flying, with her magnificent reindeer and her lovely cape to keep her warm. Can you hear their hooves?"
"Yes, miss," and for a moment Becky could see it, the reindeer clip-clopping their way over the transformed streets of London, the Queen reclining behind them, her face haughty and proud and cruel. But the sight of the more prosaic milkman's cart, led by two broken-down black horses, dispelled the image like water and she moved forward slightly, trying to bring it back.
"She must have been and gone in the night," Sara said thoughtfully. "Perhaps none of the children here would go with her. Or perhaps the milkman is really a brave knight, who rides the streets early each morning to make sure children are safe from her."
She tilted her head, as if she could see it, and Becky followed suit. As the milkman bent down to collect the empty bottles, unknowing of his two spectators, his profile, craggy and with a broken nose, became noble and ageless. As he straightened up, his bearing was dignified and proud. The two girls looked at each other and smiled.
"All the stories in the world are true somewhere," Sara had said once. "Even if it's only in here." She had pressed her hand over her heart.
"Come on," Sara said now, grabbing Becky's hand. "Let's go and tell Uncle Tom!"