To Love A Nutcracker

Chapter 11

By the time the mice had gathered their forces and begun their search, Charlotte and Alastor had already traveled a considerable distance from the Kingdom of Sweets, making their way down a clear path that led directly to the enchanting realm known as The Snowy Forest.

This forest was small yet ancient, its light canopy adorned with dogwood, juniper, and willow trees. Each leaf was tipped with white, and the branches gracefully allowed gentle showers of snowflakes to drift down and blanket the ground. The scene was breathtakingly delicate, making Charlotte feel as though she had stepped into a giant snow globe. She lifted her arms, reaching out to catch the falling snowflakes. To her surprise, they felt neither cold nor did they melt in the warmth of her palm. In fact, nothing in this forest was cold—neither the snow, nor the ice, nor the trees that stood tall. Everything was soft and comforting, wrapping her in a serene embrace.

"The snow isn't even cold." Charlotte remarked, her brow furrowed in curiosity. "I wonder why that is."

"It's a magical land, Charlotte." Alastor replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A place where the most extraordinary things can happen. Honestly, magic is the only explanation for anything here that defies the ordinary."

"You don't seem all that impressed with this place." Charlotte observed, tilting her head slightly. "I mean, how often do you get the chance to visit a forest where the snow doesn't melt or feel cold? Isn't that incredible?"

"It is." He conceded.

"So why the lack of enthusiasm?" She pressed, her eyes searching his.

"You have to remember." He explained, "I've been to this world before. I've experienced my share of first-time astonishment. Plus, Uncle and Auntie have filled many of my days with their own magic and wonder. Don't get me wrong—everything here still impresses me. I'm just very much accustomed to magic and mystery."

"You're lucky." Charlotte said, a hint of envy in her voice. "I wish I could have grown up in a household like yours. My parents want nothing to do with magic, fantasy, or anything related to make-believe."

"To be fair, magic isn't very common where we come from. It doesn't exist in that world." He replied.

"But they won't even let me read books about it, listen to Aunt Rosie's stories, or watch Uncle Husk's performances. They insist I be completely logical and practical, which is so boring."

"Let me guess, you had an unhappy childhood?"

"Technically, I'm still in my childhood." She corrected him with a slight smile. "I just look older. But it's not like that. While Mother and Father didn't encourage fantasy or imagination, they did things for me that I enjoyed. They took me shopping for new clothes and groceries, and we went ice skating and sledding in the winter. We worked in the garden during spring and summer, and at other times, we played music and danced in the drawing room. But my favorite moments were when they took me to the theater."

"Ah, so you're a lover of live performances." He said.

"Yes, especially ballet. When I attended my first performance, I was captivated by the thought of how incredible it must be to dance on that stage, basking in the spotlight. The way dancers move their bodies in perfect harmony with the music, showcasing such beauty and grace for everyone to admire—it's truly the most amazing thing in the world."

"Can you dance ballet?"

"I believe I can. I try my best." She replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "My father wouldn't allow me to take lessons, so I attempted to teach myself by reading books and watching other dancers."

"Did that help?"

"Somewhat. I know just enough to dance for fun, but not enough to perform elegantly or entertain like a professional."