Of Winters Past

John Brightmist practically fell into the hidden little house as the door he attempted to crack suddenly swung open from within.

“Captain! Lock yourself out of your own home?” laughed Polk, the Empress’ chief navigator.

“Dammit man, this is heavy! Why don’t you give me a hand instead of pokin’ fun at me,” said John as he dumped one of the two crates he held into the man’s arms.

“Who’s leavin’ the door open? It’s friggin’ cold!” came collective shouts from the common room down the short hall. “Shut the damned door! Fuel don’ grow on trees!”

“Our fuel is the trees, you dimwits!” John shouted back with a smirk.

Polk grunted, eyes going wide as he peered into the box. “The girls are in with the others if you’re… Holy shit. Stars! Where’d ya get all this?! Canned juneberries? Honey?! Guys! Guys! We got juneberries!” the man called as he hurried down the hall to be met by a small crowd of the Empress’ crew.

“Captain, where’d you find all this stuff?”

“Oh man, I could eat this outta the jar!”

“You eat that out of the jar and I’ll skin you alive, Ordin Deerwater!” shouted the cook as he emerged from the kitchen, brandishing a ladle. “If you all wanna eat a proper Winterfest meal you better –” A string of threats, complaints, and quick apologies followed, but John didn’t hear any of them as the second crate was taken from his hands. Looking across the common room his attention was captivated as he watched the women of the house decorate a short, fluffy pine tree.

Jenny stood, a mess of holiday lights filling her little arms, and she appeared to be arguing with her mother about why they couldn’t plug them into the house. Well, the child was arguing. Cora sat quietly on a cushioned bench, listening with a warm expression on her face. It was enchanting, and for the time being John chose to lean against the holovision to listen and observe.

“Can you not use an external battery to plug it into?” asked Cora as she slowly braided her soft brown hair over one shoulder.

The little girl shook her head, pigtails swishing against the small, faded and scratched bulb ornaments that hung on either side. They were no doubt stuck there for someone else’s amusement and Jenny did not care. “Cook ‘as all of ‘em.”

“‘Has all of them’, you mean,” Cora corrected gently.

“Aww, it means the same shhhh – thing,” Jenny corrected with an innocent grin. She looked down to the lights again, unable to keep back her disappointment. “I don’t got – have a converter, either. Guess we can do without lights, though…. I mean… These ones ‘ave ugly green little men painted on them, anyways.

Cora’s melodious laugh filled the room, and John felt pleased as he noted the other crew members within earshot were affected by the same heart-warming smile the laugh brought to his own face. “No. No ugly green men on our tree,” Cora confirmed with a smile. “But we simply must have lights on the tree.”

“And how might we remedy this problem?” John asked as he finally moved to walk across the room.

“Dad!” Jenny cast the jumble of lights aside and ran to throw herself against John’s legs, little arms cast around him for a hug.

John laughed warmly and waddled the short distance between him and his wife as Jenny stood on the tops of his feet.

“Hello love,” said Cora, turning her head up to smile at him.

The man gave his own fond smile down at the woman, brushing her hair out of her eyes, and he bent to kiss her. This was all the Winterfest that he needed.

“Uuugh, you guys are gross!” Jenny huffed, quickly escaping from her parents who chuckled at her and kissed again.

“So how are we resolving this lights crisis?” John asked as he sat on the arm of Cora’s chair and stole an arm around her as she leaned against him.

Jenny pried an ornament out of her pigtail to hang on a branch before looking expectantly to her mother.

Chuffing a soft chuckle, Cora motioned for Jenny to draw close. “I think I have just the thing. Hold out your hand, my dear.” Stepping obediently up to lean against her mother’s knees, Jenny held out her hand for Cora to take.

John watched in silence as Cora traced a delicate finger over their daughter’s palm. He knew it had to be some sort of… spell, but he did not quite understand. There was a look, though. A peaceful, otherworldly feel that seemed to swim around Cora and Jenny before dissipating. Entranced, he remained silent as Cora shooed Jenny towards the tree.

“Now, touch where you want a light,” Cora said, her hands having fallen to rest in her lap.

Jenny flexed her hand, and after a moment of hesitation, touched a tree branch. Cora smiled, and suddenly a little golden spark of light like a star hovered over the pine needles. Jenny gasped, staring in awe. The girl erupted with a delighted giggle, and began touching branches here and there, glancing quickly to her mother then to the tree as more little golden lights appeared.

As much as he felt skeptical, John was impressed, and his amazement at the quickly illuminated tree shifted down to his wife sitting against him. He smirked as the crew began to filter in from the kitchen. Mugs in their hands, they moved to gather around and watch as Jenny hopped around, “lighting” the tree, and their chatter was interspersed with suggestions of spots the little girl had missed.

“… She’s not actually doing that… is she?” John murmured into Cora’s ear.

“Oh, Stars no!” Cora whispered back with a sparkle in her eyes. “She is not quite there yet. But let her have this.”

John gazed down into Cora’s green eyes, lost for a moment before kissing her temple and shifting his focus back up as one of the crew members had been snagged by Jenny so she could reach the higher branches. “Happy Winterfest, my dear.”

The woman relaxed contently against him, head resting against his chest as she observed and lit the tree with specks of Void-light. “Happy Winterfest.”