I'm trying not to leave too many author's notes these days, heh. I feel like it takes away the impact of the story and it doesn't really matter what I've to say. The story is what's important! All I can say is, I'm finally getting closer and closer to writing the climax I've had planned for months lol
I hope you enjoy reading this and maaaybe leave a review too? :0
"You've travelled an awfully long distance to arrive here," a woman's voice exclaims.
She faces a weary-faced man who clutches the small hand of his daughter, both with powdery snow sparkling over their coats.
He sighs. "We have nowhere else to go, ma'am,"
The chief's wife observes the pair carefully.
"Come inside, it's cold out. My husband will get you sorted."
For once, it's quiet.
Right now, I'm indulging in the tranquility, something difficult to grasp up here. Gusts of wind pass by from time to time, but they don't howl, they only whistle. Even now, this evening the clouds don't screen us as much from the night sky. They're thin enough that I can count the sparkles speckled across the space world above us.
And beneath all that noise, Nana sleeps beside me, soft breaths escaping her lips in her slumber. A now everyday experience I thought I wasn't going to be able to live again. She gave me this opportunity. She gave me this moment. She gave me the breaths of life I now treasure.
She saved me.
Not necessary, she said only a few nights ago. Please, you're anything but that. Why don't you understand? I wonder in my head.
My gaze lowers to her head, only a little lower than mine, but enough for her to bury her head into my chest. Admittedly, it was a pretty shocking experience at first, but when you've known someone for just over half your life, I guess you get used to it.
It's strange to think about. How compared to any other person our age, I've known Nana for the shortest amount of time. We weren't joined by the hip from birth or anything; it took seven years for her to walk into my life. And I smile, knowing neither of us regrets that.
There was a beastly blizzard that winter night, intense enough that you'd have to have been crazy to be outside at all. Even in the village, it had only mellowed out a little bit, though the immensely thick cloud of fog had failed to dissipate. Anyone stood in it might have been mistaken for a ghost.
It was a miracle Nana and her father had even made it to Yukino at all.
Her father had stubbornly pressed onwards, she said. They had stopped travel for enough days that they needed to get to a town again to restock on food, only this time it would be at their destination. That was why they had to reach the village nonetheless. Besides, if anything, her father had his cryokinesis to aid them in the face of danger, though it was naturally nullified against the cold enough weather.
And all the while, whilst they struggled against the elements, I remained in my comfortable hearth, a home that mercifully shielded me from the ravaging demons outside our cabin door. The flame was echoing the warmth of affection, something that regularly fell unto me, its snowflakes seeming to perpetually sparkle along my body wherever I might go. So I, too, innocently loved, knowing it would not be unrequited. Such is the privilege of being the beloved chief's child.
I had barely heard the desperate pounds on our cabin's door, knocks that would open the door to the life I live now. It's a life with even more warmth and affection than I could have dreamed of. A life where I get to feel the snowflakes of her friendship and love fall on me.
"He's in here, sweetheart."
The creak of my bedroom door as it opened startled me. It wasn't even nearly time for bed, especially since I didn't have lessons tomorrow, so I could play just a little more than usual. Perhaps she changed her mind today.
"You two can play together while the adults are talking, alright?" You could almost hear the gentle smile in her voice as she gazed down at a little pink-hooded girl, stood shyly by her side.
Her lilac-purple eyes followed the gesture of the woman towering above her before finally settling onto the curious stare of the boy across the room. It was only a second before she looked away again, shrinking back.
Mom only smiled again. "Oh, he won't bite, dear. He's only your age." And then as abruptly as she entered the room, she left, only patting the girl on the head before her exit. Then it was just the two of us.
Short dull-brown hair ending just above her shoulders. A greying pink parka snugly cuddling her frail body, the very thing that had ultimately defended her the best it could against the howling winds outside. Frayed leather gloves tightly clutching her hands,
to stop the frostbite from leaping out.
I hadn't known at the time, of course. All I thought at the time was that a timid girl was standing awkwardly in my room across from me. But she didn't seem mean.
She raised her hand to her evenly-parted fringe, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Even then, she still refused to look directly at me, even when she finally asked:
"...What are you playing?"
It didn't take long for me to figure out I was going to do most of the talking this playtime. My hands moved to grab a couple of the wooden toys scattered around me – a thicker, larger figure dressed in a blue makeshift coat, clutching a little mallet by its side; a slim figure cut to resemble a female's, with crudely tied braids and a cute pink-red winter dress. (It took me a good few years to master my hair-braiding technique.)
"It's called 'Villages'," I replied eagerly. "The village's food is all being stolen by the animals-" - I gestured towards smaller figures, all taking on the appearance of Topis and Nitpickers - "-so the chief's going with his climbing people to go up the mountain and get the food again."
A pause. She observed the little pretend world I'd been puppeting in my little game carefully: three or four tiny houses representing a village, at the foot of a mountain of pillows that the "climbing people" had been...climbing. Nothing impressive, but, well, a child's imagination easily changed that, I suppose.
The girl didn't say anything.
Pushing the little figures closer to her, I boasted proudly, "My papa made these for me," hoping to pique her interest still. In hindsight, I suppose she'd asked what I was doing in the first place because she wanted to join in, but the poor thing had been too timid to even try. I can't help but chuckle a little at that thought.
My tactics seemed to have been successful, though, because her eyes seemed to light up just a little bit as she began to employ the same intrigued gaze I'd had earlier. Shuffling a little nearer to me, she bent her head to inspect the wooden figures.
"That's..."
My eyes widened, meeting her own.
"...so cool," she finally replied. Another moment passed where she paused again, pursing her lips. It only then occurred to me that she'd been holding something behind her back, as she brought something out. A tattered seal plush, greying similarly to her own parka with seams beginning to fall apart. The button-eyed doll had seen better days.
Then, for the first time, the faintest of smiles crossed her face.
"My mama made this for me."
The girl clutched the doll close to her chest. It seemed like if she were to hug it any tighter the seams would unravel. She gazed down at it fondly, her eyes sparkling against it as if it were a jewel.
In the distance, beyond the boundaries of my childhood bedroom, the mutters and murmurs of the adults resonated. Whatever they were discussing, I thought as nothing more than serious adult-talk. Things I wouldn't understand yet. Deep voices sounded as if they were dominating the conversation; my mother never bothered to interrupt my father's negotiations unless she saw it as necessary.
The girl had obviously noticed this whilst she'd been sitting with the adults, though she didn't seem to outwardly think much of it. We could only hear two papas talking besides two silent mamas. Or so I thought, anyway.
"Your mama's really nice, making a doll for you," I observed.
She only nodded, having looked away from me again. Her feet sidled back together. The stiffness I thought I'd been able to ease out of her was chaining her once again, roots digging back into the ground just when they'd started to release her as she froze back into her own little igloo.
Her attention soon returned to the wooden figures clutched in my small hands, the masculinely-built doll representing a "chief" of sorts; the female figure his princess, her 'status' evident by the orange-red pattern adorning her dress. Compared to the other dolls, the princess in particular was evidently the most untouched: where the chief's figure was immaculate and spotless, with only the vaguest signs of weariness, the princess, though barely scratched, had a thin coat of dust accompanying her attire. The princess was worn in her own way, too, despite the cunning grin carved onto her face. A grin buried within the depths of my toy box more than it should have been.
I'd spent so long staring at the little thing that I barely noticed the figure of the girl shadowing my own, her approach towards me uncertain but intrigued. Seal clutched in one arm, she raised her right hand towards me, pointing towards the princess in my own.
"Does she do anything in your game?"
Maybe she'd noticed the doll's neglect, or maybe the fact it was the only remotely female figure piqued her interest, but the doll had intrigued her enough to spark even the slightest glint of courage within her to come closer to me and (amazingly) speak to me without prompt. I raised myself up to a higher kneel to push the girl doll into her hand.
It was at this point that I got a better look at the girl's face for the first time. As I looked up, a lilac gaze stared back. Curiosity sparkling in the corner of her eyes, then the shiver of snow as the doll abruptly landed into her hand; her round eyes grew rounder, her cheeks pinker than her parka. The beads of snow that decorated her fringe shivered too, just as my hand brushed against hers-
-the doll fell to the floor, sending the rest of the figures into tremors and trembles.
Puzzled, I barely raised an eyebrow at the girl before reaching down to pick the doll back up from where it had slipped out of my hand. It had not met its destination of the girl's hand, nor had it had the chance to. The moment we touched, she'd jolted back instantly.
It probably goes without saying that I was a lot more outgoing and extroverted in my childhood in comparison to my current self; one might even say that over the course of time Nana and I exchanged personalities at some point. This is not true, of course. We just happened to grow up. And having grown up a little bit now, I can come to understand why my companion had felt so startled around me at first.
I paused for a brief moment after retrieving the toy, examining it carefully once again. Then, more gently, I proffered it to her once more.
"The princess leads the climbing people with the chief," I explained. "Because they rule together."
Assuming I were to follow the reality of village life in the game? This too was not true. The chief rules alone.
"Tradition was made to be followed, dear. To break tradition is to break loyalty."
Such is the case of my livelihood in Yukino, of my entire existence. For as long as possible, our traditions must continue to beat strongly at the heart of the village. My mother made this clear in her parting will.
Would it be a sin if I were to vow to shatter the boundaries instead? To tear apart the ancient laws and alter them to how I see fit?
I don't mean to appear as if I condone the abolishment of such a system. Merely the alteration. But I'd never hear the end of Gio and my subsequent "disrespect" if I were to suggest such a thing, though even my mother herself did so. It may sound odd of me to say that after I've just criticised her attachment to such ancient concepts, but any "changes" she had made of her own she made out of basic humanity and compassion. Left untouched were still many other harshly strict values she saw no issue with.
Despite it all, Yukino is renown across the region for its equal abundance of liberties; of freedom and welcoming, in contrast to pretty much any other civilisation in our frosty climate. Word of mouth easily tells of our people's kindness and tolerance, and traders and merchants of all walks of life (sometimes even from far out of the region) congregate in our village, the largest business hub around - being the most populated village, after all. (You understand by now that my homeplace is of great significance to almost anyone around it, at least in our region, anyway.)
Perhaps the thing Yukino is best known for apart from all those brilliant things is its tolerance – or rather, welcoming, even – of anyone and everyone into its arms. Yukino is a sanctuary; a place of solace for even the "demons" and "scum" of the world, in a world where everywhere else seems to shut them away.
"Snowbats" such as ourselves have existed throughout history for years, I'm sure of it. There aren't many old texts or tales of them, but any that remain to this day only portray us in dark lights, of course. It's either that or not being spoken of at all.
How my village's fall in discrimination came about, I'm not so sure of, though I assume it was a good while before our community reached the state it's in now. And considering the severity of our rule, I suppose most people don't have much of a choice when it comes to their attitudes towards myself, no matter how beastly or dangerous I may be in their eyes. Such is the privilege of being the beloved chief's child.
A privileged and lonely child.
It was the girl's turn to raise an eyebrow at me. "Together?"
"Yes." I nodded. "...Um, unless you want to do something else."
The doll still lay in my hand, waiting patiently to be held and played with. Its times of neglect were coming to an end.
A small hand clasped its fingers around it, taking it away from me.
"I want to go up the mountain with you."