A Snowbunny for Emir

     He first noticed her on the third day of the Month of Celebrating, and he saw her every day thereafter, sitting in the same spot, keeping the same hours, crocheting the same white Snowbunnies from the same white yarn. His shop was across the way, and his workstation was across from the window, so he couldn’t help but see her there, wearing a coat but no gloves and endlessly crocheting.

     It was only natural, then, that his curiosity would be piqued and that he would think to offer her some respite from the unrelenting cold of Terror Mountain, in case she needed it but had nowhere to go. And so on the eleventh day of the Month of Celebrating, after closing his shop for the night, he bundled up in his coat and hat and gloves and went to see her.

     She sat by herself on a wooden bench woven with strings of lights. Beside her was the wicker basket lined with a picnic cloth in which she kept her astonishing collection of Snowbunny plushes. Throughout the day, wide-eyed children would approach her, and she would let them reach into her basket and take one of her creations. This, Emir saw frequently from his shop window, and it made him all the more curious.

     As soon as his shadow fell over her, she paused in her handiwork and looked up. “Well,” she said, her voice as jovial as the festive lights behind her. “What could this handsome young Gelert want with an old lady like me?”

     Despite her words, Emir would not have called her old. Certainly, she was on her way out of her midlife, crow’s feet just starting to spring up in the folds of her eyes. But her fingers were quick and dexterous, and there was an alertness in her eyes that spoke more of youth than of the jaded resignation of old age.

     “Excuse me,” Emir said, dipping his head in a half-bow. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I only meant to ask what you were doing out here every day in the cold and if I might offer you some respite from it?”

     The Aisha cocked her head. “My, how very sweet of you. Come, sit for a spell, if you can withstand the cold, and I’ll tell you.”

     She gestured to the spot on the bench beside her basket. Emir hesitated. Guilt had compelled him to inquire if she needed assistance, but he had not intended on continuing the conversation any longer than was necessary. Still, his upbringing dictated that he oblige the lady out of base civility, and it was something so deeply ingrained in him that he found he had no choice but to take a seat beside her.

     “You are the proprietor of the shoe shop across the way, aren’t you?” the Aisha asked, jutting her chin in the direction of it.

     “I am,” he replied. “I suppose you see my comings and goings every day?”

     The Aisha smiled. “Sometimes I watch you work through your little window. Quite a delicate touch you have.”

     Emir blushed. Though he had first perceived her outside his window, he had not considered that she might have been watching him in turn.

     The Aisha seemed to notice his embarrassment, for she hastily added, “Just a glance here and there, mind you. I simply enjoy seeing others work at their craft.” She held out the partially crocheted Snowbunny for him to see. “So you are a leather-worker?”

     “Yes,” Emir said. “I am a cobbler by trade. I don’t know that I would consider it a craft as much as simply the job with which I have found myself.”

     The Aisha clicked her tongue. “No, no. Don’t sell yourself short. You are a craftsman just as I am a craftswoman. We must respect our work, see, or it will not yield satisfactory results.”

     Emir didn’t know how to respond to that, and so he said nothing. The Aisha hummed a little jingle under her breath as she finished her row. “What is your name?” she asked him then.

     “Emir. And you?”

     “Gemma.” She grinned. “It isn’t my birth name, but it’s what I call myself these days.”

     Emir pondered that for a few moments before determining that it would be imprudent to pry. “Then, Miss Gemma,” he said instead, “would you like to come inside my shop to warm up? The sun is setting, and it will only get colder from here.”

     But Gemma merely tsked. “It’s barely runny-nose weather!” she teased, and as if on-cue, Emir sniffed. “Ha! You are not used to Terror Mountain’s climate yet, are you?”

     Emir glanced at her sidelong. “I’ve lived here for some years now. I’m as used to it as I’ll ever be.”

     “Certainly. But you are not from here, are you?” She eyed him over without a hint of discretion.

     “No,” he admitted. “I suppose my colouring gave it away?”

     Gemma smiled ruefully. “We don’t see many Desert pets in these parts, except for those who come especially for this.” She nodded toward the Advent Calendar kiosk. “But you work here, and you dress properly for the weather, so you’re clearly no tourist. Even so, why do you never stop by the Advent Calendar to collect your prize? You must know by now that even the locals partake in the Advent Calendar. But I’ve never seen you.”

     Emir shot her a quizzical look. “Might I ask the same of you, then? You arrive before the kiosk opens, and you leave after it closes, but I’ve not once seen you claim a prize, either.”

     Gemma set her crochet in her lap and gazed wistfully up at the setting sun. Emir wondered if his sudden reversal of her question had been out of line, but just as he was trying to think of how to remedy the situation, she spoke again.

     “You’re right. I have not claimed a prize all year. But I have had a lifetime of joy from the Advent Calendar already. That’s why I sit here, crocheting toys for the children who come by—so that I might bring a little extra joy to their visit.”

     Emir stared into her basket at all the tiny Snowbunnies. “They’re very well-made,” he acknowledged. “But are Snowbunnies all you ever make? You don’t make any other petpets?”

     “It’s Sugar,” Gemma said.

     Emir quirked an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

     “Sugar,” Gemma repeated. “My dear friend, Sugar. He was the Snowbunny I received from the Advent Calendar—all the way back in its fourth year of operation. Do you remember?”

     Emir shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was only a pup back then, far too young to make the journey to Terror Mountain.”

     “There’s no need to apologize,” Gemma assured him. “I was already a young woman then, so I remember it as if it were yesterday.” She leaned back against the bench, closing her eyes in contentment. “Sugar was my first and only petpet—a plump, lovely, and sometimes infuriating Snowbunny. I received him at this very kiosk.” She sighed as if recalling a particularly fond memory. “He was a little troublemaker in his younger years, but he grew up into a very dignified and respectable Snowbunny. I made sure of that.”

     She opened her eyes then and plucked one of the completed Snowbunnies from her basket. “Sugar departed from this world this past summer.”

     “Oh.” Emir frowned, lowering his eyes to the basket. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

     “Don’t be—he lived a full and happy life. But that’s why I make these Snowbunnies, you see—to honour Sugar’s memory. And to pass just a little bit of that happiness that he gave me on to others.”

     She turned the Snowbunny plush around in her hand so that it was facing Emir. “Now it’s your turn.”

     “Pardon?”

     “It’s your turn to tell me why you don’t claim your Advent Calendar prizes.”

     Emir grimaced. “It isn’t a particularly profound reason. In fact, it’s a little spiteful.”

     Gemma tilted her head as if to urge him to continue. He plucked at his gloves and finally said, “Once when I was a child, my parents brought my siblings and I to see the Winter Starlight Celebration. We made the journey to Happy Valley from the Lost Desert and stayed in a cabin for the whole Month of Celebrating. My siblings and I quickly came to adore the Advent Calendar in particular.”

     Gemma nodded. “As children do. So what soured it for you?”

     Emir laughed. “Nothing soured it. At least, not the Advent Calendar itself. What soured was my relationship with my parents.” He paused, wondering if he ought to reveal more. But Gemma was eyeing him expectantly, so, reluctantly, he continued.

     “I am from one of the many branch families of the Qasalan royal family. It is certainly nothing extravagant, with no place in the line of succession, of course. But my parents took our status very seriously. As I was the eldest, I was raised as the successor to the family name and lands. But that was not the kind of life I wanted to lead, and so I left, striking out on my own. I don’t think my parents have ever forgiven me for abandoning the family.”

     He sighed, massaging his temple with his knuckles. “Perhaps it was nostalgia that led me to Happy Valley. Yet even once I was settled here, I could not bring myself to return to the Advent Calendar. I have precious few happy memories of the time I spent with my family in later years. I suppose I simply didn’t want to tarnish that childhood innocence I once experienced here.”

     Gemma listened to him patiently all the while he spoke, and when he finished, she wordlessly held out the Snowbunny in her hand.

     “Oh, no,” Emir said, surprised by the gesture. “I don’t need one.”

     “I suppose not,” she returned with a crooked smile. “You’re not a child anymore, after all. But if you would like to go back to that time of childhood innocence, even if for just a moment—well, I would be happy to lend you a hand in that regard.”

     Emir stared at the tiny Snowbunny. On closer inspection, it really was quite cute. Cautiously, and a little self-consciously, he accepted the proffered plush. “You’re very kind, Miss Gemma.”

     Gemma beamed. “That’s Sugar’s legacy, see. Just as you once did, I found such joy in visiting the Advent Calendar year after year. I hope that some day, you might rekindle that same feeling.”

     The sun was nearly entirely obscured beyond the horizon line now, and the wind was picking up. Emir rose, cradling the Snowbunny in his gloved hands. “I will take good care of Sugar,” he assured Gemma. “And… Well… Thank you for speaking with me. It felt good, I suppose, to get some of that off my chest.”

     “I must thank you as well. It’s not often that an adult indulges a little old lady in her ranting.”

     “Don’t sell yourself short,” Emir reminded her with a note of amusement. “Now please get yourself somewhere warm before you freeze.”

     Gemma laughed as she jokingly shooed him off. “I’ll be just fine!”

     —

     The next morning, Emir rose early. The little crocheted Snowbunny on his bedside table seemed to gaze at him through its tiny felted eyes.

     As he approached his shop, Emir saw Gemma in her usual place, already crocheting away. She waved at him, her eyes twinkling. He waved back.

     Though it had yet open, the Advent Calendar kiosk already boasted the beginning of a line. Eager children tugged on their sleepy parents’ arms in excitement as they waited to claim their daily prizes.

     It was on a whim, and nothing more, that Emir waited with them.

      The End.