2. blizzard

It was one of the coldest birthdays she had ever had.

Her mother woke her up that morning with the smell of eggs being scrambled in a pan over the fireplace, and even as she lay in bed she could hear the scraping of her mother's wooden spoon across the sizzling iron pan. When she smelled a few strips of bacon being fried, she jumped out of her springy bed and dressed herself quickly, throwing on her favorite olive green tunic. It was loose on her waist and chest just how she liked it, and its fabric was so silky that it felt like it melted around her fingertips. Her mother had bought it for her with a chunk of their savings on her sixteenth birthday only two years prior.

The blonde pranced out of the doorway of her room just as her mother was setting her plate of eggs and bacon down on the dining table. Nyx's eyes alighted with excitement—it wasn't often they had breakfast at all, and if they did it would only be a chunk of bread and some butter on a lucky week.

Valerie had not even heard her daughter prance into the room like an ungraceful antelope, so when she felt a figure grab her from behind in a monstrously warm hug, she gasped in fright. "Oh, dear," she breathed when she saw the golden wisps of hair splayed over her own shoulder. She chuckled airily, placing her hands over Nyx's that squeezed her waist a little hard. "Happy birthday, my sweet."

"Thank you, Ma," Nyx whispered into the shoulder of her mother, inhaling her lavender scent that she could never possibly forget.

"Now, just wait before you get sappy on me," Valerie chuckled, untying Nyx's arms around her. "You need to open your present before your breakfast gets cold." She turned around to her daughter, not being able to restrain the smile on her face when she saw Nyx's dark blonde eyebrows raise above her glimmering brown eyes that held fluorescent flicks of gold in them brighter than the flames of the fireplace behind her.

"Present?!" Nyx asked in a tone of restrained excitement, her voice soft and grateful all the same.

Valerie smiled at her impishly as she wiped her hands on her dirtied white apron before untying it, walking towards the side of the room where her cooking table and shelf of ingredients sat. Tossing her apron down onto the table where the pot of leftover stew sat, she took the huge package of flour off the shelf, revealing a rectangular box that was sitting against the wall behind it. It was a white box with a golden bow sitting at the center of it, and Nyx cursed herself for not having located it before since it was in such an easy spot to find.

She sat down at the table eagerly, gingerly pushing her plate of food aside as her mother neared and gently placed the box down in front of her, quickly taking the seat across from Nyx at the table.

Nyx smiled between her mother and the box, staring at the golden bow that had a few spots of glitter. Her mother had always used golden bows that she made herself.

"Well...open it," Valerie urged, sitting her elbows up on the table and biting at the side of her hand to restrain her excitement.

Seeing how delighted her mother was for her to open made her realize that it must have been a very nice present, especially since it was a milestone birthday. Grinning up at her mother, she placed her hands on either side of the white box, slowly lifting up the lid and squeezing her eyes shut. Once the lid was off, she held her breath for just another moment as her mind burst with everything she imagined it could have been—a new pair of shoes, a painting, a book, or even a cozy throw. Not being able to restrain her eagerness, she inhaled deeply before finally opening her honey brown eyes.

She could hear her mother's breath trifle with joy, and Nyx wished she had the urge to shriek and jump into her mother's arms with gratefulness, but something was trifling her.

Inside the box was a dress—a white one with such silky fabric she could nearly see her reflection in it. Pearls were embroidered around the collar, and the chest was made of floral designs laced throughout the fabric. At the shoulders was more lace, and the arms, which were crossed over the folded waist of the dress, widened at the wrists in a flowing, beautiful manner. It was a dress for a bride.

"I know you aren't engaged yet," her mother began, leaning forward to eye the dress that she was so proud of, "but I saw it in the window at Paula's dress shop a few weeks ago. I just stopped and stood there, staring at it as if it was staring at me back. It was just so beautiful, and I knew that you would look so beautiful in it, too. And since you are turning eighteen this year..." She stopped for a moment, looking up at her daughter whose lips were ajar and eyes unreadable. She smiled and laughed quietly, eyeing her daughter with some foreign mixture of happiness and nostalgia as she pictured her golden locks laying upon the lacy shoulders of the white wedding dress.

Nyx finally closed her lips, pursing them together as she slowly reached her trembling hands into the box, gently lifting up the folded dress so tender it felt like it would tear right between her fingertips. She ran her thumb over the fabric delicately as she brought it closer to her, the pearls oozing beauty from their reflective crystalline spheres.

"I know, it's a lot for a birthday gift, but...I just wanted to go ahead and get it for you so you won't have to worry about it later. I knew you would be speechless." Her mother chuckled in satisfaction, standing from the wooden chair and crossing around the table to Nyx. She leaned over, pressing her lips against Nyx's soft golden strands and leaving a heartfelt kiss there. "I love you, my dear," she whispered, leaning up and letting her hand fondly stroke Nyx's hair before she patted her back and turned away, going to start preparing for their dinner so she could let Nyx soak in her special present.

But as Nyx sat there and soaked in the special present, her thumb circling the pearls and lining the floral designs, she felt not excitement, not gratitude, not joy, but pain. If she hadn't trusted that her mother held nothing for her but the upmost love and care, she would have thought it some cruel joke. She had just turned eighteen, and her mother already bought her a wedding dress. It was as if she was using it as a reason for Nyx to leave the nest even sooner.

"Tonight, we are going to have ham with the brown bread that you like, thanks to Henry who brought me one of his pigs early this morning for your birthday," her mother began breathlessly as she peeled open a brown package on the cooking table, and as Nyx looked over she saw it was a full ham, then turning her head towards her uneaten plate of eggs and bacon as she realized that was where the bacon had come from. "And then for dessert we will have your favorite." Her mother turned around to eye Nyx momentarily. "Apple pie!" She quickly turned back around and continued unpackaging the ham.

Nyx could feel that unfamiliar feeling fill her veins, inching its way through her bloodstream and causing for her cheeks to suddenly become very hot. "Henry..." she finally mumbled, slowly setting the dress back down in the box. Her lips turned down into a frown of anger as she set her warm palms on the cold table.

"Yes, wasn't that so kind of him? I told him the other day when he ate dinner with us, after you went to sleep, that your birthday was coming up soon. A whole pig! Can you believe that?"

As if coinciding with her anger, the roaring blizzard outside began to heighten its own rage. She looked towards the window, seeing nothing but pure white as the wind blew the snow furiously into the ground. The blizzard had been raging for days and kept everyone cooped up inside their homes. Usually Nyx did not mind it, but now she felt more suffocated than ever.

"You know... He's going to bring his nephew over tonight. He's about... Oh, I'd say two or three years older than you. He lives just on the other side of town, and he's even got his own farm—"

"Henry's coming over tonight?" Nyx interrupted, ripping her eyes away from the window where the blizzard outside began to ease up rather quickly.

"Yes," Valerie answered as if it was an obvious question, not even bothering to turn around to speak directly to Nyx. "It was the least I could do to thank him. Plus, I really think you would like his nephew—"

The sound of a wooden chair squeaking across the wooden floor and then tumbling onto it made Valerie jump and whip her head around. There stood Nyx, who had risen from her chair so violently that it was now sitting sideways behind her, her fists balled and eyebrows creasing with frustration.

"What is it, dear?" Her mother asked with concern written in her brown eyes, wiping her hands off with a towel as she turned her entire body around and eyed her daughter carefully.

"What is it?" Nyx repeated before gesturing her hand towards the dress on the table, not daring to even look at it again. "What is this, mother?!"

Valerie looked from her daughter, to the dress, and back at her. "What do you mean?"

"The wedding dress... You bought me a wedding dress? I'm only eighteen, mother!"

"I know, dear, you won't be using it right away, but I just thought I would go ahead and—"

"And Henry's coming over tonight? On my birthday?" Nyx continued, her usually soft voice raising an octave. "It's always just been me and you on my birthday, no one else." She clenched her jaw upon hearing her own voice crack on her last words.

"Nyx," her mother breathed with a nervous smile. "If you don't want Henry to come over tonight, that's okay. I just thought it would be nice to repay him—"

"I don't want Henry coming over at all!" she exclaimed, her blonde locks falling over her face. "I know what his intentions are, and so do you!"

Valerie lowered her head and chewed on her lower lip as she still held the small towel in her hands. She did know what Henry's intentions were, and she had to admit that she had been fostering them. It wouldn't have been much of a problem if Nyx were younger, but she was older now and even more obstinate than ever.

"And I know what your intentions are," Nyx declared, her chest rising up and down with the breaths that wracked her small body. She watched as her mother's eyes suddenly lifted and bore into hers, a look of offense twisting her face up at the accusation.

"My intentions?" she breathed in disbelief, not knowing where all her daughter's anger was coming from.

"Yes, mother. You want me to get married, so that I will move out and get off your back, so that you can marry Henry and live the rest of your merry-loving life with him!"

"Nyx," her mother spoke more sternly, setting the towel down on the cooking table behind her. "I do not want you to 'get off my back,' dear. As for Henry...I..." Her eyes drifted down to the floor as she tried to conceptualize everything between her and Henry left unsaid. "I'm allowed to have feelings, you know. I am a grown woman."

Nyx closed her eyes and brought her cold hand over her warm forehead, feeling all of her pent-up frustration brimming at the edge. She knew that her mother was allowed to have feelings, but she couldn't shake the hunch that she was still trying to get rid of her.

"I don't want you off my back, darling," she assured her, walking closer to her and taking her by her shoulders as the girl only stared at the floor. "I just want what's best for you. I want you to get out of this little town, this small house. I want you to be in the world, and for the world to be in you. I just want what's best for you."

"And marriage is what's best for me?" Nyx raised her honey eyes up to her, her rosy lips pursed as her flushed cheeks hollowed inwards. "It seems like you don't want what's best for me. You just want the exact opposite of what I want."

"Nyx," her mother began nervously, and for the first time Nyx could see hints of true fear in her chocolate irises, fear that did not come from leaky roofs or strange knocks at the door. It was fear like ice invading her very soul. She continued in a voice more serious than Nyx had ever heard, "I just want you to be safe. That's all I want."

"Am I not safe here, with you?" she whispered, looking deep into her mother's eyes.

She had, of course, expected her mother to tell her that she was safe with her, but she threw a curve ball at her own daughter when she said nothing. Again, Nyx could see deep in her eyes that icy fear, as if it was freezing her mother into an ice statue right before her. It scared her, but she was too full of rage and angst to fall for it.

"You're just making excuses," Nyx uttered as she pushed her mother's hands off her shoulders and turned, walking towards the cloaks that hung beside the door and taking her beige one down. "I'm tired of your secrecy."

"W-what are you doing?" Valerie asked, her hands nervously fiddling with each other as she watched her pull the hood over her head and button up the neck of the cloak.

"Your secrecy about Henry, about why you want me gone so bad, and even about my own father," Nyx mumbled, knowing that the last one would cut deep. As she turned towards her mother, she knew that it had by the look of pain written across her face. "You couldn't even tell your daughter about her own father." With that, she turned and opened the front door, immediately being slapped in the face with the flurries of snow and sharp wind.

"Nyx! Where are you going!" her mother yelled as she ran towards the door, grabbing her daughter's arm right before she was about to leave.

"Leave me alone!" the blonde exclaimed, jerking her arm away from her mother's warm grasp before turning and jogging out into the snow, her ankle-high boots crunching on the snow-coated ground as she began sprinting as fast as she could. She didn't know where she was going—she could hardly even see through the blizzard—but she knew she just needed to get away.

"Nyx, don't go!" her mother screamed after her, pure fear in her voice. Nyx had never heard that sort of scream come from her, but her own fear of what her life was starting to become was too powerful.

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her cloak and continued running down the snowy hill that their house was on, past where the dirt trail would have been if it was not covered in snow, and towards the patch of woods on the other side. She could hear her mother screaming for her, but she did not stop.

It was deadly quiet by the time she reached the woods. There was the faint sound of the wind, but the tall trees and shrubbery blocked most of it out. The snow still reached her, though, turning her nose and lips completely numb. Even though her hands were tucked into her wool cloak and her boots leather and thick, she still could not feel the tips of her fingers nor her toes.

Snow fell furiously from the sky, covering the dark green pines around her. The white snow beneath her feet nearly blinded her eyes from its brightness, and she was so out of breath that her lungs burned; but she did not stop running.

Fog formed around her face every time she exhaled, and it was all somewhat soothing. She was free, like a deer prancing through the snowy forest which was quiet from all the ice. The only sound she could hear was her own footsteps and her own pants.

Until she heard another set of footfalls.

She stopped suddenly, shoes nearly skating across the snow as she halted in her spot. Bending over, she leaned her elbows onto her knees as she struggled to catch her breath, listening as hard as she could. Surely her mother wouldn't have came chasing after her. Although, Nyx wouldn't doubt it if she had sent Henry running after her like some knight in shining armor.

But there was more than one set of footfalls. There were a few, coming from all different directions. She stood up straighter, turning to look behind her but seeing only the empty path she had been running through and her own footprints on the snowy floor of the forest.

She heard the brush of a branch and the sound of snow hitting the ground, causing her to whip her head in the other direction. "Who's there?!" she yelled, voice trembling from how cold it was. She was sure it was way below freezing, and she knew that she probably needed to stop with her useless tantrum and just go home. But when she suddenly heard the sound of fast footsteps coming from behind her, there was no way she was turning back.

Letting out a choked shriek of fear, she began running as fast as she could again. She dared not look behind her, for fear it was a bear or a wolf or even worse—Henry. She sprinted as fast as her legs could take her, the ends of her dark olive dress covered in ice and snow, as well as the top of her hood. Her heart ached from how fast it beat in her chest, and even through the loud sound of her pants she could still hear the sound of fast footsteps chasing her.

She wanted to turn around to get a glimpse of the one chasing her, but as she started to turn her head around while still running, she came upon a fallen log that was covered in snow and hard to see.

Before she could get a good look behind her, her boot hit the log covered in slippery ice. Nyx tripped, letting out a cry of surprise as she went falling forward towards a thick tree. The last thing she saw was the brown bark of the tree right before her head slammed into it, and she went falling face-down into the snow.

For a few minutes, she could not move. Her hands, now buried in the snow from when she had tried to catch herself, were completely frozen. The hood of her cloak thankfully served as a blanket between her flushed cheek and the snow.

The blonde groaned, her body finally coming to after the shock of hitting the tree so hard. Snow from the sky had already covered her back, and she knew that if she did not get up she would freeze to death or get eaten by whatever had been chasing her. So she opened her eyes whose lashes were coated with snow flurries, trying to lift herself off the ground, but her hands only fell deeper into the snow.

She dug her knees through the snow to get a grip on the actual ground, and finally she lifted herself up. But with the gravity came the dizziness in her head, and through her dim vision she could see drops of blood in the snow below her, another drop dripping from the corner of her forehead and wetting the top layer of snow before seeping deep down under. She groaned again, knowing she probably acquired a concussion from that blasted tree.

As she crouched over the snow and tried to regain clarity in her vision, she heard the footsteps that had caused her fall behind her, much slower this time. She was still a bit too out of it for her adrenaline to get her off her feet, as all she could do was fall back down into the snow.

The footfalls came much closer, and before she knew it, they stopped behind her at what she could sense was her feet. She waited to feel a bear or wolf bite into a chunk of her calf, or for Henry or her mother to pick her up and discuss which mental asylum she would be visiting, but there was nothing.

She wanted to pick herself up, but she could feel herself losing consciousness and control of her limbs. All she could do was move her head up a little more, so she did, far enough up so that she could see what or who was standing in front of her from under the hood of her cloak.

And when she saw them, she knew not if they were a who or a what. All she knew was that she certainly did have a concussion, and was either hallucinating or was at the very end of her short-lived life.