Chapter 3: Fish Hides Drift

Fish and Drift stood and stared as two heavily laden sledges came swiftly towards them, pulled along by teams of howling huskies. Drift tried to shrink down as best he could. Which, given the amount of snow now falling on him, wasn’t very much. He looked a bit lumpy.

His new friend dropped her bag to the ground once more and poked him in the ribs. Her arm sank in up to the elbow and snow fell out of his back. “I bet this is your fault,” she told him.

“Will you STOP doing that!” Drift said, filling the hole in his chest yet again.

Fish threw her hands in the air. “You’re going to ruin everything,” she said. She pointed at the people on the approaching sleds. “Are they here for you?”

Drift squirmed and didn’t look at Fish. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

The howling became louder. The figures came closer.

“Tell me now. And honestly. Are they here for you?” Fish tapped one foot on the packed snow and put her hands on her hips.

Drift twitched his broken nose. “What? Who? Oh, those people? I… er… it’s so hard to see through all this snow. I doubt it. I’m nobody, really. I’ve not done anything.”

He looked about for somewhere to hide. There was nowhere. There was nothing. Just snow and then snow, snow for miles and miles around. It didn’t look good. He’d have to make a run for it.

Then again, the nearer they came, the more dangerous those huskies looked. He gathered himself up as neatly as he could. Fish placed a hand on his chest, gently but stopping him all the same. “I’ll deal with this,” she said. “Just… I don’t know, spread yourself out a bit or something.”

Drift began to pant heavily, sending great clouds of snowflakes into the air. ”Where are you going? You can’t go. You can’t tell them about me. Don’t tell them about me. They’ll send me south. Further south than you’ve ever been. It’s hot down there. I’ve heard about how hot it is. I’ve seen brochures. It’s horrible. I can’t go. I won’t go. This has all been a huge misunderstanding.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t let them take me away,” he said in a quiet voice.

Fish took hold of Drift with her two small hands. “Pull yourself together,” she said. “I don’t know what you’ve got mixed up in, and we’ve only just met, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

Drift didn’t reply. Instead, he slumped down further and began to blend in with his surroundings. Apart from his bright orange nose and coal-black eyes.

“Wait here.” Fish climbed over the snowman and, after a thought, turned back and pulled his broken nose from his face.

“Ouch.” Drift rubbed his face. “Dat ‘urt.”

“Hush,” Fish said. “Keep still. And close your eyes – those are a dead giveaway.”

Drift sank into the snow as best he could. He was still enormous but, without his nose, the white sky just about managed to camouflage him. The snow fell upon his face, tickling as it did. The hole where his nose had been twitched as Fish walked towards the people.

“Fish!” Out from the snow the figure of a woman emerged. She stepped off her sled and rushed towards the girl. “Little Fish, are you alright? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”

The voice stopped Fish in her tracks. “Mum. It’s you,” she said. “I was… umm… just out… er… for a walk.”

The other figure stepped off his sledge and approached. He was dressed in thick furs and wore a big hat. His eyes were like molten rock and warm breath poured from his mouth.

“He has to be close, Anna. We can’t stay here.” The huskies barked and strained against their harnesses but kept their place.

“Who are you looking for?” Fish asked.

Anna, Fish’s mum, hugged her daughter and patted her all over to make sure she was in one piece. “Hush now. Are you alright, little minnow? The blizzard came on so sudden and so heavy. That was a silly thing to do, walking out without me. You might have been lost.”

“I’m fine, mum. Honestly. Who are you chasing? Is this about Dad?”

Anna didn’t answer. Instead she stepped in front of her daughter, looking around. “Fish. Have you seen anyone else here?” She ploughed through the thick snow, close to where Drift lay holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut.

“You can’t be doing this, Fish,” her mum said. “You can’t wander like we used to. It isn’t safe.” Anna looked around and saw the bag lying on the ground. “Why did you bring a bag?” she asked.

Fish changed the subject. “We can manage, Mum. Dad would have…” Fish tried to pull her mum away from where Drift lay with his eyes shut. Anna stayed where she was, looking down at the lumpy snow.

“Fish,” she said. “What’s been going on?” Fish didn’t answer but tucked the half-piece of carrot nose into her blanket.

“Fish…” Her mum peered around. “I’ll ask you one more time. Has anyone been here?”

“Anyone, mum? Like who? Who would be out walking at this time of year?”

Fish’s mum reached out a foot and tapped at the ground. “Viktor,” she said. “Come and look. Something’s not right.”

Viktor, the man who had ridden with her, hefted the shovel from his shoulder and walked to where she stood. “What is it, Anna?” He was a short scrap of a man with narrow eyes and a mouth like a drained stream.

“Don’t worry, Anna,” he said. “We’ll fix this. And then we’ll find him.”

They were both now dangerously close to where Drift was hiding. Fish jumped up and down and waved her hands in the air. Drift kept his eyes closed, although every now and again a boot prodded him and he shook but did not shout out. His empty nose socket twitched more than ever as the snowstorm eased and flakes floated like feathers.

“What is it, Fish?” Anna asked.

“I… um…” Fish tried to think of something astounding. Something so important it would stop her mum from discovering Drift. “I was running away,” she blurted.

“Running away?” Anna said. “I don’t understand. Why would you run away?”

Fish clenched her fists and stamped a foot into the snow. “Because I don’t want to move,” she said. “Dad wouldn’t want this. I don’t want this.”

“Fish,” Anna said, stepping away from Drift. “Look, this isn’t the best time to talk. We’re close to finding…”

Anna didn’t finish her sentence because at that moment Drift sneezed, sending himself off in all directions and knocking everyone to the ground.

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Illustration © Carl Pugh