The next morning was just as happy as the night had been. At breakfast, the Nordics told stories about their countries' histories, and in exchange they got to ask me whatever they wanted about my human life. It seemed so far away. It was hard to believe, but it had been only two days ago that I was playing drinking games with my college friends and waiting for relatives to start calling as I crammed for my final exams.

I told them a lot about myself, but there were some things I couldn't bring myself to say. They seemed happy with any answer, though, so I didn't feel too bad about it. I did notice that Berwald and Lukas narrowed their eyes at some of my responses. Like, when I was talking about family—mother, father, two brothers (one older and one younger)—and how we were always close, but left out the part where we fought constantly and no one understood me, they shared a look away from the others before shooting a look my way. I thought it was weird, but I brushed it off.

However, the same thing happened later, when I was describing my childhood parties. I told them pretty much everything up to the point I went into seventh grade, but pretty much skipped everything after that, going right into my college years. Well, I didn't skip it, but I was pretty vague. Again, they shared a look as the other three were paying close attention to the story. I didn't ignore it this time, but met their gazes. They knew. I wasn't sure how much, but they at least realized that I wasn't telling the whole story.

After breakfast, the boys left, and Berwald and I saw them off. We went into the sitting room and talked for a bit, but the conversation was about simple things, like how I was doing or when he thought the test results would come in, and it was punctuated with comfortable silence. He didn't bring up my vagueness at the breakfast table, and I didn't offer up any information. In return, I didn't bring up the scene from the night before, and he seemed relieved; I think he thought I had been asleep. I was a little disappointed. I guess he didn't mean what he said. But I did.

He soon had to leave to attend to some business or other. I was left alone, but that was okay. I actually like being alone.

I went back up to my room to retrieve last night's book from where I'd left it on the nightstand, then returned to the sitting room. I sat in that room for a couple of hours, basking in the warmth of the fire and reading my book quietly. When I finished the book, I went back to my room and put it back on the shelf. Berwald still hadn't returned, and the silence was quickly becoming monotonous. I decided to go look for the nice girl I had seen the evening before.

I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, tucking the shirt into my waistband and wrapping a heavy jacket around my waist. I stuffed a scarf, mittens, and a hat into the jacket pockets; maybe I would go outside with her, if I found her. I didn't want to have to go all the way back to my room to get a coat. I strapped on a pair of warm, fur-lined leather boots and headed out. I trailed absentmindedly to the kitchen, letting my feet find their way. When I got there, everything was quiet. I had declined lunch earlier, and Berwald, I assumed, was still out.

I found a door in the back of the kitchen and tentatively knocked. When no one answered, I knocked louder, then called out, "Hello? I'm looking for someone. Is anyone in there?" No one answered, so I shrugged and headed back towards the main door. When I was a few steps away, the door behind me opened, and a boy—only a little younger than me—poked his head out.

"Hello?" he asked. He had a Swedish accent, but his voice was too high pitched for it to be as attractive as it was on Berwald. "Who are you looking for?" He looked at me with wide green eyes.

"Um," I mumbled, then spoke louder. "I don't know her name, but…" I trailed off as he raised his eyebrows. "I saw her yesterday evening. She was arranging spices in the pantry, and she showed me to the dining room." He looked very curious. "I wanted to thank her."

He turned and looked backward, into the room behind the door. He said something to someone before peeking back out. "Well," he said smiling, "I think I can help with that. She's my sister, after all." He opened the door wider and gestured for me to come in. I did, and found myself the focus point of several gazes.

There was a table in the middle of the small room, around which sat eight people, nine when the boy from before took his seat. I recognized all of them from the busy kitchen the night before; several chefs, two servants, the head butler guy and a couple of maids. They were all trying to stand and, like, bow or whatever, but I waved a hand. "Please," I said, "Don't get up."

"She's looking for my sister, guys," the boy from before said. "Where'd she go?"

One of the maids snapped out of it enough to look at him snidely. "Probably out tending her garden," she said. "Which you very well know, George."

George glanced back at her with mirth in his green eyes. They matched his sister's exactly. "Yeah, I do, Sophie. I just thought I'd get a second opinion." He winked at her, which prompted a disgusted sound from her throat. He laughed and turned to me, still smiling. "So, yeah. That's where she is. The garden. Her name is Janie, but she likes to be called Elle."

"Great," I said. "Just point me in the right direction, and I'll let you get back to…whatever you all are doing." I looked around and smiled politely. Everyone smiled back, even the snide-talking girl.

"Well, for starters," the head butler guy said, "It's not outside."

"Really?" I kept my expression and voice bemused, rather than sarcastic, like I wanted to be; I mean, it was a blizzard outside. Who gardens in a blizzard? Who thinks that someone would garden in a blizzard? It's ridiculous. "So, it's a greenhouse?"

He looked at me honestly. "Yes, it is. You just take a right from the sitting room, go all the way down the hall, and it's through the big oak doors. You can't miss it." He turned back to the table, and I shrugged. At least someone is treating me like a normal person around here.

I turned to leave, saying "Thank you!", and heading out the door. I went back to the living room and took a right outside the door, following the directions given to me. I opened the doors at the end of the hall and was immediately assaulted with plant smells. It was wonderful.

As I walked through the rows of plants, I called out, "Hello?" My voice echoed. And echoed. And echoed. No one answered, so I kept walking. "I'm looking for Elle?"

I heard a scuffle, and turned to see the girl from the last evening crawling from behind a small garden. She brushed her hands off on her dress. "Hello," I said, walking towards her.

"Hallo, again, miss," she said, curtsying.

Okay, I'm just going to tell you; I hate that kind of stuff. Even back when I was human, I hated it. Sure, I dreamed of living in a previous time period, and yeah, I wanted to succeed and have tons of money, but who doesn't? I never liked it when people were treated like they were better than everyone else. I get it, yeah, with certain people: royalty, government officials, elder relatives, even, deserved respect. But to treat someone like they're better than you for no reason whatsoever—that's ridiculous. I, myself, only treated people like that if it was the first time I had met them. After that, unless they were one of the special cases, I just treated them how I wanted to be treated—nothing special, just basic politeness. Therefore, when people were suddenly treating me like that, it made me uncomfortable.

"Why does everyone do that?" I asked.

"Do vhat, miss?"

"Curtsy or bow or whatever," I said. She wasn't looking me in the eye as I stood in front of her. I looked down at the garden next to her feet. I saw tons of different flowers on one side, while what I assumed were spices lined the other. I looked back up as she answered.

"Vell," she said quietly, "you are a guest in Master Bervald's home." She looked up, but, seeing my curious expression, quickly looked back down. "It is expected zat vee treat you as such."

"Expected by whom?" I asked, shocked. I was also a bit angry; I'm just a kid, I shouldn't be getting any special treatment just because I'm living somewhere. Like I said; it made me uncomfortable.

"Ourselves," she said, surprised. "It is proper etiquette."

"Well," I said, "I don't like it." I looked her up and down; she was filthy, with dirt on her arms and face, covering her dress. "This is the only order I will ever give you: no curtsying or saying miss or anything. I'll have no special treatment."

She looked up with a smile. "I believe zat is more zen one order, mi—" she froze for a moment, blushing prettily. "Um, vhat vould you like to be called?" she asked.

I held out my hand for her to shake. She did as I said, "Lillian. Call me Lillian."

"Vhat a pretty name," she murmured, kneeling on the ground again. I joined her.

"My mother owned a garden like this," I said

"Did she?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "She loved plants." I thought back. "Every time I came home from college, I had to call ahead of time, so she could bring all of the plants inside."

"Vhy vould she have to do zat?" Elle asked, digging a hole in the black dirt. She put a handful of seeds inside, then closed it back up.

"She needed to bring all of the plants inside," I started, still watching her, "because every time I visited, there was this huge snowstorm." She looked startled. "Yeah. It didn't matter if there had been no sign whatsoever on the news or weather charts. If I was visiting in any time between September and May—boom—snow." I laughed. "It was really funny, since no one had any idea what to think about it." I looked at Elle. "Even the weatherman said, 'We don't know how ta explain it, folks. We just don't know why this kepps happ'nin'.'" Elle laughed at the impersonation of our local weatherman.

"Surely, you are exaggerating, mi—Lillian," she corrected herself.

"That's what you think," I giggled. "But that man couldn't control his vocals for anything. I'm surprised he wasn't fired for being unintelligible." Elle laughed. She continued planting seeds in the fresh dirt while I watched. "Can I help?" I asked finally. She looked up, surprised. I pointed to the remaining seeds. "I know the basics, you can just tell me how far away to plant them." She looked like she wanted to say no, but relented after a moment.

"Okay," she said. "Just put six inches betveen each plant, and you should be good." She handed me some seeds and a small shovel. "Holes are two inches deep." She turned back to her side of the garden, where she was now weeding out dandelions.

I carefully dug a hole, putting three seeds in and then closing it back up. I dug another hole about half a foot away and did it again. Elle looked over at me and nodded approvingly. "Good?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Very good. Did you help your mudder vit her garten?"

"Yeah, I did." I remembered how much I loved to watch her as a kid. "I've always loved winter the best, but there's just something about plants that calms me down." In the corner of my eye, I saw her nod absentmindedly. "I know it's a cliché," I said, "But I love, love, love roses. They're my favorite flower." She seemed surprised, and I asked her why.

"You don't seem zeh type," she replied. "Do not misunderstand, Lillian, but…" She looked over at me, pausing as if gathering her thoughts. Or maybe she was trying not to hurt my feelings. "You don't really seem girly." She blushed and looked down.

"Yeah," I said, "So I've been told. Lots of my friends are—were—always telling me that I'm a tomboy." She looked confused by the term. "A girl that acts like a boy," I clarified. She seemed to get the picture, and nodded. "Plus, just last night, Berwald told me that I was only slightly girly. Feminine, but not overbearingly so, I guess." I thought about it. "He said that Uralia was like that, too, so I guess we're not as different as I thought."

"I suppose not," Elle said quietly, busily weeding her side of the garden. "So," she said, "Vhat uzzer flowvers do you like?"

"All kinds," I said. "Roses are my number one, but I like all flowers. Carnations, Lilies, Forsythias, Moonflowers, Violets, Narcissus, Forget-Me-Nots, Belladonna, Hyacinths—"

Elle stopped me, laughing. "Vhoa," she said. "Okay, I get it." She laughed again. "You like flowers." She looked at me thoughtfully as I blushed; I hadn't meant to gab. "What is your second favorite? Besides roses, I am meaning?"

I thought about it for a minute as I planted a couple more seeds. "Sunflowers, I think," I said finally. "I love sunflowers. After that…Tulips. Tulips are definitely in my top three. Roses, sunflowers, and tulips." She nodded, weeding out the last of the dandelions as I planted the last of the seeds. Finally, we were both finished.

"Thank you," Elle said, "For the help." She gestured for me to follow her over to a small hose, where we cleaned off our hands and brushed off our clothes a bit.

"Do you want to go outside?" I asked suddenly. She looked at me a bit oddly. "What?"

"Vell," she started, "No one ever vants to go outside. Least of all vit me."

"I have been dying to go outside," I informed her. "I caught a glimpse outside earlier, and there's snow on the ground." She looked confused, like she didn't see how that was a good thing. "Snow is great," I said. "I love snow."

Hey, guys! Miss me?

It's summer now, and I've had a bit of time to write-not only this story, but a new one, as well.

I hope you guys will review and tell me how you like it! There's this chapter and the next, and I'm almost finished with a third, so you've got a lot of reading!

Happy Reading! Please Review!

Anya