"Why are you not eating?" shrieked Mama Annistyn.
Kodiak winced as another pinch scored through her thin flesh. The candied snow bee Mama Annistyn pushed against Kodiak's adamant lips. "Eat!" said Mama Annistyn. "Do you wish to die?"
"What is going on?"
Uncle Jantzen!
Please, please, save me, Kodiak wanted so badly to cry out.
"The girl won't eat her snow bees," huffed Mama Annistyn, putting her hands on her hips. "Stubborn as her mother she is."
Jantzen knelt before Kodiak, grasped her hands, dwarfed in his own. "Honey, Kodiak, the snow bees are good for you."
"She won't last through winter if the bee's blood does not get into her system."
He sighed. "I know, Mama." He stood. Kodiak stared at her feet, flushed in guilt. "Just...let me do it. She's lost both her mother figures in less than a week. Give her time. Please."
Mama Annistyn grumbled, dropped the spoon on the counter, and left outside to tend to the chickens. When she was gone, Jantzen leaned against the counter on which Kodiak sat, her legs dangling.
"Look, Kodiak, I won't be able to help you if you won't tell me why you've been acting like this."
Kodiak hung her head, strands of her hair curtaining her small face. "Mummy told me to keep it a secret."
"Keep what a secret?"
She looked up through the cascade of her hair. "Witches can last through winter without anything to sustain them..." She bit on her lower lip, then released it. "Snow bees kill witches."
Jantzen did not know whether to laugh or worry. "Witches?" he said in an amused breathlessness. Kodiak's gaze darted to the back door, where Mama Annistyn had left through, brief panic streaking her features, and nodded. "Well," said Jantzen, smiling, though puzzled, "you're not a witch, are you?"
Kodiak pressed her hand over her mouth, stiflinga sob that rent through her throat. Her eyes watered. She said quietly, "All Snow girls are."
YOU ARE READING
THE DREAMER'S LAMENT
Short StoryIn the hearts of dreamers, lament will always linger. Sadness can bloom into the brightest, lambent shades, like the rain giving way to the phantom of a rainbow, like the promise of hope. But sorrow may also wind down a darker, colder path. Our hear...
