Snow ✓

The Gift

When Mat pulled up to the cottage that evening, the clouds looked ready to unleash a thunderstorm, though snow was still falling deceptively light.

Gran huffed when he strode through the door. "There he is!" She quit her task of canning fruit to put her hands on her hips, her apron disheveled. "Thought thieves may have strung you up by your thumbs and made off with my harvest."

A salad prepared for the girl already occupied her spot at the table. Mat tossed the lamb chops beside it, then threw up his hands in mock offense.

"You left me to haul three pantries worth of merchandise alone, then deny my part in helping farm said merchandise? Keep it up old woman, and I won't bake a single croissant all winter."

Gran threw a wooden spoon at his head that he caught midair.

He sidled up to her at the counter and grabbed an apple slice before she could slap his hand away. He stuck out his tongue in triumph, then plopped it into his mouth.

"Always knew I should have traded you in for a respectable man servant. How grabby you are," Gran groused.

"A small price to pay for family, surely." He went for another—this time Gran was faster.

"I'm a growing boy, Gran!"

"Then get to salting those pork chops so we can eat!"

"I skipped lunch," he said pleadingly.

"Oh, so that's not cinnamon I smell on your breath?"

Taking a wide step back, he gave her a sly look.

"Where's the girl?" he asked, reaching around the old woman and nabbing another slice.

She elbowed him in the ribs.

"Reading of course. It's a wonder what good any of that knowledge does with her tongue so tied."

Mat tapped his temple. "You mistake banter for intelligence."

"And you mistake silence for mystery."

"Don't underestimate me, Gran."

"I'll do as I please," she said, but pulled him down to her level to give him a swift kiss on the head before returning to canning. "Salt those chops, boy."

Mat unwrapped the meat, sprinkled it with salt and pepper, and slapped it onto the cookfire.

"Old man Elis says hello."

"Stop that."

"He said the same about my loving title for you."

"He's a stripling compared to me.

"Did you tell old man Elis you were shirking your duties to play with toys in his ramshackle shop?"

"That's not very nice."

Gran scoffed. "Mystians would sooner have their little ones play with sticks and rocks in the road, than venture into that unworldly place."

"Mhm, where better to find a fitting gift?"

"Pray tell, what could you possibly think I'd want from Elis' shop?"

"Not for you."

The words left his mouth like arrowheads, striking the old woman in the back. Gran turned to him with the gravity of someone told the world was ending and in that moment knew it to be true. Cowed by her stormy gaze, Mat couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He had practiced what to say all the way home but when it came time to tell even a partial truth, he clammed up.