The Gnorbu and the Crystal Woods

     She is lost in an endlessly white landscape. She cannot see two feet in front of her. She cannot feel her nose. Her ears. Her toes. Everything is so bitterly, frighteningly… empty.

     She had dreamt this dream every year, like clockwork, on the eve of her anniversary. How strange, that her dream should hold such a frightening resemblance to her last memory before arriving at 52 Bika Lane… but no. The gnorbu rose from her bed. She would not dwell on those memories: not today, of all days.

     Colette took her time descending the stairs. She was dressed in her favourite dress: a stiff and plain thing made of babaa wool, buttoned up the neck, with silver accents sewn artfully at the hem. She had made herself up, going so far as to fashion a braid crown at the top of her head, but she did not want to appear overly eager on the day of her anniversary either. The weight of the satchel hanging from one shoulder felt reassuring: Colette had foraged a little allowance to cover the cost of a hot cocoa or two.

     In the kitchen, Gwendolyn, Pinecone, and a handful of younger neopets were luxuriating in their breakfast around the hearth. Gwen was all ready for their outing into town, her short blonde tufts of hair carefully bundled into a pompom hat. From the sugary smell lingering heavily in the air, Coco deduced that french toasts drenched in snowberry jam were the subject of today’s decadence. Her stomach growled. It took several moments before anyone noticed the gnorbu approaching Pinecone.

     "Pinecone, could you chop some wood for the fire tonight? I would do it, but…" she began.

     A small chorus of "good morning, Colette"s crescendoed through the kitchen, followed by a cannon in " happy birthday "s (Colette was quick to correct them—it was not a birthday, but rather, an anniversary).

     A red bruce chirped up, "I can’t wait for my first anniversary. I will ask for all the yule log cakes I want, and then I will sleep all day!" His declaration, spoken through a mouthful of french toast, was greeted by excited concurrences.

     "Colette, what will you do today to celebrate?" asked Finnian, the green-eyed acara. A wash of thrilled suggestions filled the kitchen.

     "Will you visit the Ice Caves?"

     "Go see the Negg Faerie!"

     "How about adopting a petpet?"

     "She will probably stay here and boss us around."

     Colette blinked at this last statement: it was Pinecone who had uttered it. He grinned.

     "What, you mean unlike you, Pinecone? " she said, not trying to hide the snark in her small voice. Colette’s eyes floated to the plate hidden beneath a mountain of sticky french toasts. "And what sort of breakfast is that? You should really think about the kinds of foods you’re putting in your belly, this is all just sugar." Her voice soured further. "Try eating a vegetable, for once!" Now she’d really done it. Pinecone and the others stared at Colette, bitter expressions plastered across their faces.

     Gwen gave her a warning glance. "Colette…"

     "What a waste of food. You put too much jam on the bread," she added, feeling a warm flush rise to her face.

     What a way to begin an anniversary. But Pinecone and the others were used to Colette’s endless nitpicking and criticisms. They silently returned to their french toasts. Anger turned to embarrassment (as is so often the case with anger), and Colette rushed out of the kitchen.

     Outside, the winter sun shined brightly, its rays dancing merrily atop the snow. Colette paused to breathe only after she had laboured through the frozen snow and stepped onto the main road. Her chest tightened with irritation: no one ever listened to her! And suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the irritation melted, and the little gnorbu realized that she would spend her anniversary alone.

     "What is an anniversary, anyway?" she chided, "it just marks one more year since—since..." but the words caught in her throat. One more year since she had been lost in the Crystal Woods. One more year since she had nearly frozen in the birch tree forest. One more year since she had forgotten where she’d come from. Colette blinked the memory away. She felt around in her shoulder bag for her coins, but her small gloved hand brushed against something plush: her jinjah plushie. It, too, had been with her for 15 years…

     "Coco, wait!" Colette spun around and saw Gwen ploughing after her. "Weren’t we going to celebrate your birthday—("not a birthday")—together?" The snow cracked like glass shards underfoot.

     Coco did not show it, but her chest lifted with relief.

     Neither spoke of Colette’s outburst in the kitchen, and the two made their way towards town.

     ***

     Gwendolyn and Colette spent the morning sipping gingerbread cocoas (garnished with little marshmallows, of course) in the ski chalet, a rustic stone chateau perched beside the Happy Valley ski lift. There, the gnorbu surprised Gwen with a book all about sled racing.

     "You’ll read it, won’t you?" said Colette.

     "You bet!" answered Gwen before pocketing the book.

     Afterwards, they found their way to the Valley’s skating rink, already decorated for the holidays. By Colette’s 30th lap around the pond, memories of her turbulent morning had faded into the very back of her mind.

     In the late afternoon, when the sun was already low in the sky, a gentle flurry of snow had begun falling, accompanied by a chilly breeze. Famished, Gwen and Coco returned their ice skates and found a nearby cafe. A blast of toasty air greeted them as they entered. Despite the crowds, the pair found two seats tucked away by a window. With their leftover neopoints combined, they ordered steaming bowls of chestnut soup and watched sleepily as the silvery snowflakes danced in the lamplight. It was a perfect way to end one’s anniversary, some might think.

     Colette’s eyes drifted to the Winter Petpets shop across the street. Gwen followed her gaze.

     "Why don’t we pop in there for a quick look?" she offered. Indeed, why not? Colette had always wanted her own petpet, and someone had even suggested it this morning, before her confrontation with Pinecone… An uncomfortable weight dropped into the pit of her stomach, and Coco quickly shook the thought away.

     "Let’s," she said instead, and took their empty soup bowls to the counter.

     ***

     Colette had lived in Happy Valley for 15 years, and not once had she ever stepped foot inside the Winter Petpets store. It enchanted her. Abominable snowballs and powtrys dozed in delicate icicle enclosures; striped candychans whizzed through the air. In the corner of the store, a couple snowbunnys nibbled on bits of lettuce, and near the fireplace dozed a chubby snuffly. Coco noticed stables in the store’s backyard, home to bikas and dofreys.

     Gwen had scooped up a baby snowbunny and was gently easing it into Colette’s arms when the bruce shopkeeper emerged from behind the counter.

     "Do any of these furry frozen friends interest you?" he asked. A smug-looking feepit had claimed the bruce’s head as a throne. It took every bit of concentration for Colette not to giggle at the sight.

     "Oh, they’re all so wonderful!" she whispered, carefully petting the snowbunny in her arms, "I’m not sure I could pick just one."

     In truth, the little gnorbu would have loved any one of these petpets as a companion, but she knew it would merely become another thing to have to worry about at the manor. Besides, she had exhausted the last of her allowance on chestnut soup.

     "Maybe another time," she offered meekly, sliding the snowbunny into the shopkeeper’s arms.

     When Colette and Gwen finally left the store, it had become dark outside, and a frigid heaviness hung in the air. Now, it was snowing harder, the snowflakes taking on a crystalline sharpness as they whirled in the wind. The busy streets of Happy Valley had emptied themselves. Evidently, everyone had gone home. The first winter snow storm had arrived without any fanfare at all.

      They hurried down the streets. Through the white haze, Colette could faintly distinguish the edge of the Crystal Woods lining the border of Happy Valley. She hoped no one had lost their way in those woods tonight. The haunting maze of birch trees blended so seamlessly in with the snow, it was impossible to find a way out during a blizzard. Colette shivered at the memory.

     Gwen led the way home. When they passed the Christmas tree farm, Colette spotted a familiar silhouette in the shape of a korbat leaving through the gate.

     "Pinecone!" Gwen called after him. The korbat turned around and Gwen and Colette fell in step beside him.

     "Hello Gwen… Hello Colette," he added carefully, "did you have a good day?"

     "It was lovely," she answered, "were you able to gather some firewood? It will likely blizzard through the night."

     Without pausing, Pinecone said "no, I did not get the chance yet, but I’m sure we have enough wood to keep us warm for one night, no?"

     Of course, thought Colette. She felt a flurry of heat rush to her temples. "I asked you this morning to chop wood!"

     "Look, Colette—"

     "No! No more excuses: that is all anyone ever gives me anymore! I knew I couldn’t count on you." There was acid in her voice. "You know, for once, you ought to take some responsibility, Pinecone."

     Before the korbat could get another word in, Colette marched off in the opposite direction. She would find her own way home: besides, she had to chop wood before it got too dark. What else am I good for, she thought, let’s just wait for old-reliable-Coco to do everything, shall we?

     ***

     There is an old saying on Terror Mountain: never stand in the way of a gnorbu on a rampage. Colette was not sure where that proverb had first originated, but she felt it to be true, for though she borrowed a longer path to return to the manor, she did not see Pinecone or Gwen when she arrived. That korbat was never in any hurry, she thought.

     Away from the glowing streets of Happy Valley Proper, Bika Lane was sparingly lit by a single street lamp. Coco might as well have been marching through the snow blindfolded. Instead of entering the estate, the gnorbu veered left of the hidden backdoor, feeling her way towards a shed sitting in the manor’s shadow. Inside, she found a pull switch and yanked on the chain. Nothing. The lightbulb must have broken. Colette let out a groan: one more thing she would have to repair. Colette fumbled in the dark until her hand closed around the splintered handle of an axe.

     Back outside, the wind had picked up significantly. Colette’s hair, freed from its braid crown, whipped around wildly. The world had become a snow globe, all whirling, stinging flakes of snow whizzing through the landscape. Colette shivered and pressed her ears to her head.

     Armed with her rusty axe and a bundle of rope, she pushed through the wind. The nearest grove of trees was only a quarter of a mile from the manor, but as the snow accumulated into mounds, which then accumulated into steep dunes, the distance began to feel impossibly long.

     Colette cut down as much wood as she could pull back home. Whatever firewood was left at the manor would surely last only another hour or so.

     "I should have gathered wood days ago," she said. Was this her fault? Tears stung her eyes. Colette could not decide if they were the result of her despair or from the wind, yet she persisted through the snow. It did not matter: she would not cry. She dragged her weight in logs behind her.

     All the lights were on inside the manor when Colette finally reached the door. It opened immediately and the gnorbu tumbled inside.

     "Colette!" Ms. Carol cried, bundling the shivering heap into a tight hug, "We were so worried!" The vandagyre’s breath appeared as little puffs of fog, and Colette only then realized how glacial the temperature inside was.

     Ms. Carol ushered Colette into the heart of the mansion, where a small fire crackled pitifully in the kitchen hearth.

     "I b…rought woo…d," she tried to say through clattering teeth. A wool blanket was thrown over her shoulders, a cup of something hot and fragrant pushed into her hands, and the firewood placed beside the hearth to dry. She nursed her mug between her hands, willing its warmth to seep through to her very bones.

     They sat in silence for a while. The icy howling wind pummeled and wailed against the windows, begging to be let inside. Eventually, Colette noticed that there was no one else in the kitchen and that Ms. Carol was picking at her feathers.

     "Where is everyone?" she finally asked.

     "Out looking for Pinecone and you. I stayed behind to wait for you just in case… Oh Colette! Have you seen Pinecone? He had work at Fir’s Tree Farm all afternoon. He should have come home hours ago!"

     A pang of fear echoed in her chest and Colette thought back: "Gwen and I ran into Pinecone on our way home, but then… " she fiddled with her silver strand of hair. But then she had yelled at him. But then she had marched off. But then she had disappeared into the snowstorm.

     "After you left, Gwendolyn tells me he had hurried east, towards the Crystal Woods." An icy fear trickled into her belly. Pinecone, in the birch forest. No, no, no… What had she done?

      To be continued…