Chapter 2: Drift Says No

The snowman drew himself up to his full height, smoothed down his buttonless coat, and brushed a little unwanted head snow from his shoulders. He had swept into enough towns, and through enough houses to know exactly that in situations like this, he was expected to be responsible.

“Fish,” he said. “Being on the run is a very serious matter. I should know.” He stopped. Perhaps this talk would be best carried out eye to eye. He knelt down. “So well done, and good luck. You’re doing the right thing.” He patted the girl on the head.

“Am I?” she said.

“Oh yes. Running away solves everything.” Drift spread his arms in the air and lifted his face. “After all, look at me. I haven’t been caught yet.” The snowstorm had abated, giving way to a startling blue sky. Against this, the snowman looked as full of joy as a Christmas card scene.

She lifted the bag from her shoulder and let it rest in the snow as she adjusted her blanket which had become twisted during her fall. “So I can come with you?” she said.

“Oh no. Not a chance.” Drift smiled and gave Fish an encouraging thumbs up sign. “But don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

Fish looked puzzled. “Why not?” she asked. “You can’t just leave me here. I’m running away too.”

Drift had begun to stretch his legs and jog on the spot, ready to sprint off into the white wasteland once again. He stopped. He bent double, and then he stuck his head through his legs to look at Fish. “You couldn’t keep up. Just look at the size of your legs. It’s a wonder you can get anywhere on those. You people aren’t made for moving around. You always get in the way.” He looked a bit glum. “And then you all blame us snowmen when we run over you or sit on your houses.”

“I’m not blaming anyone for anything. Well apart from…” Fish’s voice cracked a little. She took a deep breath and carried on, wiping a small tear from her eye. “Never mind,” she said. “Anyway. I know all about moving around and I’m very VERY good at it.”

Drift checked the horizon again, making sure his pursuers weren’t gaining on him. It seemed clear enough, except for the promise of another storm blowing their way. That’s how it was in this part of the world. Some days it snowed. Some days it snowed more. It would be tempting to call the days in which it didn’t snow, ‘summer’ but that’s not how things work.

He sat down with a soft ‘woompf’ sound. “Don’t you people live in houses?” he said. “Houses in towns? I’ve seen houses. Sat on a few in fact. They don’t move. Well, unless you sit on them. I’d give anything to stop moving around.”

“Some do. Some don’t,” the girl reasoned. “My family moves around. In winter we move here and make ourselves a hut. In less-than-winter we move south a little and make ourselves a hut. In not-winter we go further south and make ourselves a hut. Then in almost-winter we move north again and make ourselves–“

“A hut?” Drift suggested.

“No,” the girl said. “Almost-winter doesn’t last long enough to make a hut, so we just find a small cave.”

“Oh,” Drift replied. ”I see. So why don’t you stay in the cave all the time?”

“Don’t be silly,” the girl said. “How could we move a cave north and south?”

Drift thought about this for a while. “Good point,” he said.

“Not that it matters any more,” she said. “Mum says we have to move to the coast. To the big town. Where it’s safe.” She screwed up her face as she said that last bit. “That’s why I’m running away.”

A blast of wind rattled Drift’s broken nose. He gave it a twitch, then a scratch, and then pulled it off entirely and inspected it. The last thing he wanted was to catch a cold. That was, if snowmen could catch colds. Giving it a quick lick, the snowman pushed it back into his face and stood again.

“Well that’s all well and good but the answer’s still no,” he told her. “It’s far too dangerous.” Drift leaned in and tapped the side of his nose. “I’m on the run for a reason you know.”

Fish poked him several times in the chest, leaving a sizeable hole. “So you keep saying. What reason?”

Drift winced at the girl’s prodding and let his snowflakes rush around his body to fill the hole. “Can’t tell you,” he said. “It’s a secret. Let’s just say that bad things have happened.”

“Well bad things have happened to me too.” Fish held up a hand before Drift could say anything. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you. Not unless you tell me why you’re on the run.” She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Well I can’t stay around here chatting,” she said. “Either come with me or don’t. But I don’t want you following behind me like a puppy.” She pointed at the sky which was now rapidly beginning to turn white. “Though you’d best make up your mind quickly because that storm will catch us soon.”

With a great deal of effort, Fish moved forward. Then she stopped, coughed and nodded her head to indicate to Drift he was in her way. The big snowman stood aside and his new little friend struggled past, her legs barely able to reach over the top of the thick snow.

“My snow shoes fell off,” she explained. “When I fell. But I’ll still manage.”

Drift reached down, lifted her up in his big flat hands, and then placed her a little further along the way she’d been headed. She sank again.

“I said I can manage,” she told him.

“That’s the spirit,” Drift replied.

“Shhh,” she said as the sound of voices rumbled ahead of the gathering storm.

They were angry voices. Angry, worried voices.

“Over there,” one of the voices said. It belonged to a woman.

“Faster,” said another. This one belonged to a man.

“Keep your pickaxe close,” the first urged.

Drift looked at Fish.

Fish looked at Drift.

“I really shouldn’t have dawdled,” he said.

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Illustration © Carl Pugh