An Unexpected Customer

      As she turned to look around her café that served as her workplace, she smiled. This early in the morning, she was the only one there. No-one to tell her what to do or order convoluted menu items with excessive additions and subtractions from the menu. She had only been at The Snowdrift Café for a month, but it already felt like a second home. In the fireplace the coals glowed dimly, even in the brightness of the day, the only memory left of the night before. The chairs were still upturned upon most of the tables. Approaching each in turn Stana righted them, placing them carefully under. They were red, like the tables, with peeling paint and were comfortably worn in the seat. They really ought to think about getting cushions for them someday.

      Presently, there was a tinkle of a bell, followed by a sudden rush of cold air as the door to the café opened.

      "Morning Stana," mumbled the gruff voice of the cook.

      "And a good morning to you too, Leice," replied Stana serenely, continuing to unstack the chairs.

      "Cursed snow," complained Leice stamping his feet on the entrance matt, "I'm sure it gets colder with every day."

      Stana smiled to herself. Leice moaned more about the weather than any neopet she has ever met. She never took him seriously, perhaps it was the Kacheek way, but Leice certainly seemed to enjoy complaining more than he enjoyed his food.

      "What are the specials for today?" called Stana as she approached the blackboard and began rubbing off yesterday's menu.

      "Give me a moment, lass," came the voice of the Kacheek cook from the kitchen. "What do we have in fresh?"

      "Word from the delivery lad is new fresh fruit from the Gadgadsbogen has finally been released."

      "Excellent!" Leice sounded more excited now. "We'll make it Mystery Stew Surprise! Sounds exotic and mysterious enough methinks. That should help entice some unwary customers."

      Stana smiled again, but dutifully wrote up the special on the board. This was one of her favourite times of the day; she was allowed to make it as artistic and undecipherable as she wanted. All the more to make the customer curious about the special was the argument, and Stana wouldn't disagree. Once she had finished, she made her way to the kitchen hatch, straightening napkins as she went. Glancing through she saw Leice bent over a stove, cursing to himself as he tried to light it. On his head he was proudly sporting a chef's hat. It was whiter than the snow outside, for Leice took great care of it. With a triumphant cry, the hob finally lit and was promptly smothered with a gigantic pot.

      "How long till opening time?" asked Leice as he unceremoniously dumped the entire fresh fruit delivery in the pot.

      Stana had to glance at the clock on the wall before she replied – "A little over a quarter hour."

      "Och, excellent. Just enough time for a wee nap."

      Stana snorted as the Kacheek sat on a stool and moved his hat to cover his eyes. His loud snores soon filled the café with a low rumble. With a shake of her head, Stana plucked the cloth off her shoulder, perhaps she should have another crack at that most stubborn of all stains. As she bent to her work again there came the tinkle of the bell.

      "I'm afraid we're not open yet," she said, tongue sticking out with the concentration on the spot, "but please come back in fifteen minutes."

      There came no word in reply. Only a gentle roar.

      With a yelp she wheeled around. Blocking the door was the vast and unmistakable form of the dreaded Snowager. Stana recognised it from her childhood visits to the caverns, where the young neopets would take it in turns to dart into the ice caves – the loser being the one who wouldn't touch the horde. Ice blue from head to tail, banded with sporadic flashes of white, it seemed the very personification of a cold sweat.

      "What in blazes..." Leice rushed into the front of the café, grey fur sticking up on end, eyes bleary.

      The Snowager growled at the two neopets.

      "Goo... good morning, Mr. Snowager sir," squeaked Stana. She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she was terrified, "Uh... can we help you?"

      The Snowager pushed his head through the door, iced tongue darting in and out as his, presumably, chin pushed away the carefully ordered tables. With a growl he looked first at the blackboard, then at Stana. She stood there motionless and uncomprehensive. The Snowager seemed to sigh, letting out a little puff of icy air that appeared to solidify in the air. With a pointed look, he fired a small icicle at the blackboard, upon which the words were still written.

      "You... you want a special?" asked Stana nervously, playing with the lock of blonde hair. She placed it behind her ear once more. The Snowager nodded slowly, his body wriggled with the motion.

      "Can you pay this time?" queried Leice gruffly, seemingly unafraid of the Snowager.

      "What do you mean this time?" demanded Stana, fear slowly draining.

      "Dinnae you ken?" said the Kacheek, puzzled. "He does this once a year. I suppose even a giant snowickle has tae eat sometimes."

      The Snowager growled at the cook, who stood his ground firmly, with eyebrows raised at the beast. With another exasperated size the Snowager retrieved his head, before reappearing – something glittering in his mouth. He gently approached Stana, who held out her hand hesitantly. A negg dropped into her hand. It was covered in jewels, a priceless collectable. It gleamed in the light.

      "Aye, that'll do it," affirmed Leice with a nod. "Yae keep him company now, Stana, whilst I fix it up."

      "Company?" said Stana reproachfully. "How do you keep a Snowager company?"

      "Och, you know," came the muffled voice of Leice. "Talk about treasure and the like."

      Stana looked up at the great face of the Snowager, who blinked slowly, but not unkindly. Carefully putting the glittering negg on a tabled, she reached out a hand and patted the Snowager's cheek, who seemed to acquiesce with a slight incline of his head as he closed his eyes with pleasure.

      "You're not so bad after all, are you?" she asked the Snowager, rubbing him gently. "What's it like not being in the Ice Caves?"

      The Snowager cracked an eye open, looking at Stana, and murmured happily but incoherently. The waitress continued to rub his face, feeling the icy coolness of his skin, before Leice returned with the smoking pot of Mystery Stew Surprise.

      "I'm afraid this is all we can spare, Snowy," he said, placing it in front of the Snowager. "We wouldn't have enough for the day otherwise ye ken?"

      The Snowager nodded, lapping at the stew in front of him with his tongue.

      "Can he speak?" asked Stana quietly to the Kacheek cook.

      "Och, aye," replied Leice. "He just chooses not to. People's less likely te try and approach him, ye ken?"

      With a great final slurp, the Snowager finished the broth. With his chin he patted first Leice then Stana gently on the head, before withdrawing from the café. Once out in the open he let out a low bone-shaking roar, presumably clearing his throat. He slithered off back towards the ice caves, trying to catch any horde-stealing thieves that might take advantage of his absence. Stana watched him go with regret.

      "He wasn't as bad as I first thought," mused Stana as she helped clear away the pot.

      "That he is nae," replied Leice. "Now young lass, you best be seeing to your work. There should never a moment rest in The Snowdrift Café, after all."

      "Alright then," sighed the Lutari, the rest of the day would seem drab in comparison to that first customer, although perhaps he would come back again someday...

The End