Chapter 11: Fish Jumps In
Fish wanted out. She’d listened as Florence explained all about the two hills – how they were actually two terrible snowmen called Block and Blast. Florence pointed out the danger they were in if they stayed anywhere near the Cave of Wonders. Her people knew, she told Fish. They had lived through the damage those two – and much of their family – had done to the land.
“So that’s why you don’t want to run into those two,” she warned. “Only their mother has any chance of sorting them out. Not that she ever would. Far too selfish for that, she is, sat up there on the mountain. No, the only way to keep you safe is if you to come with me. We shall head to the sea. There are more of your kind there, or so I’ve heard.” With a sharp instruction to the rest of the floe, Florence sailed on past the turning which would have led to the Cave.
Fish, however, had other ideas.
“You sound like my mum,” Fish said. “Well everything is dangerous. I’m not afraid and I don’t want to be safe. You’ve no right to do this. Take me back.” She stamped a foot, realising as she did how childish she must look. “At once.”
“Don’t be so silly, child. I’m protecting you,” Florence clucked. She swerved to take advantage of a rapid which pushed her a little faster over the rich blue water. In the distance, Fish watched as the hills began to shrink out of reach. It might have been a trick of the eye but for a moment she was certain both hills had leapt up.
But then the hills vanished on the horizon as more snow began to fall, blurring the sky once more. She stamped her foot again.
“I don’t need
Florence dipped abruptly into the water, almost sending Fish sprawling. “Your friend?” If Florence had spoken any more sharply she might have split herself in two. “Your friend? The snowman who kidnapped you? The snowman who was seen running towards two of the worst criminals the ice world has ever known? That friend?”
The ice calmed. “No, young lady. I’m afraid you are just going to have to do as you are told.”
Fish screwed up her face and hissed. She didn’t like this one bit, but what could she do about it? There was nowhere to go… except across the ice floe.
The ice block nearest to Florence was tiny. True, it was still bigger than Fish but even so, what she had in mind would be risky. Risky, but not impossible. She began to rock back and forth, swinging her hips and estimating the speed she would need to make the jump.
“What are you doing?” Florence said. “Sit down at once. At once, do you hear?”
“I’m going to save Drift. And then we’re going to find who really killed my dad. And then Drift will come and he’ll live with us and we won’t move to a town and everything will work out. You’ll see.” Fish was breathless with her plan, with her wild hope for keeping her life as it had been.
“You will do no such thing. Sit down at once. Forget him. He’s a drifter, my dear. A wanderer. A hobo. Nothing good ever came from people like that. You mark my words.”
“Well so what if he is?” Fish said. “I’m a drifter too. Are you saying I’m bad?”
“I… No. That’s not what I’m…” Florence floundered. She sounded uncertain and Fish wondered whether all adults were this way – saying things without really knowing anything for sure.
Fish didn’t know anything for sure either. She didn’t know whether her plan would work. Didn’t know and didn’t care. She knew Drift was a friend and he needed her. That was enough.
She leaped forward. Accelerating as fast as she possibly could, the girl left it until the last second before springing high in the air and landing on the next block of ice. And…
…she made it. She wobbled on the edge with inches to spare and had to swing her arms back to regain her balance. The next jump would be more difficult. She had less space to run and she’d be trying to land on something even smaller. She barely stopped to think.
Again she ran and again she jumped and again she hit the ice. The smaller block sank under her weight but managed to bob back to the surface quickly enough so only her feet got wet. The water was freezing and she cried out in pain. Her knees buckled but she took a deep breath and steeled herself for a third jump. This one would be the riskiest yet, dangerous even.
“Wait. Please.” There was an appeal in Florence’s voice, which was difficult to ignore.
Fish waited, feeling her heart thump in her chest.
“Wait.” And then Florence became her old stern self again. Her brief thaw reverted back in the deepest winter of parenthood again as she gave her instructions. “Children, gather round.”
The gaps in the ice grew narrow as the floe began to form an orderly line running from Florence right to the nearest shore. Fish turned to look at Florence. “Can I?”
“Go,” Florence said. “Help your friend. But Fish…”
Fish began stepping across the ice but the quiet sound of the older lady’s voice stopped her. “Yes?” she said.
“Be kind to your mother. She’s doing her best. And I still wouldn’t trust that snowman.”
The girl nodded and ran the rest of the way, away from the fixed path of water and towards the wide white wilderness beyond.
“Thank you,” she called.
Fish had a plan – of sorts. She would follow the shore of the water back to where it divided and then she would head for the mountain. That must be where the cave was. Florence had told her the Colder Brothers never moved far from the mountain or the cave. Something kept them close. If they were keeping Drift a prisoner or, she had to admit the possibility he had joined them, then that was where they would be.
The snowstorm drove directly into Fish’s face and it was all she could manage to keep sight of the water’s edge. She had to keep her head down much of the time. On and on she walked, listening to the whining of the wind instead of the growl of her stomach. Every winter Dad had brought her to the mountain. “She watches over us. She gives us shelter,” he’d tell her. “She has a warm heart.” Fish let that be her guide now, feeling for any kind of heat in the rising blizzard. She called out as she walked. “Drift. Drift.” But there was no answer.
As she walked, the band of water to the right of her began to fade like a scar. It was freezing over once again. She picked up her pace, pushing through the deepening snow. Somehow she managed to follow its path back to where Florence had chosen to branch off. Her strength was fading but a brief break in the storm gave her hope as she dared to look up.
Ahead of her was the mountain. Impossibly tall, impossibly strong it stood before her. Fish was tempted to break from her route and cut across but she stuck to the water’s edge and thought of Florence. And her mum.
Before long the water twisted again and joined with another, faster flowing river. Fish lifted her head and felt… something warm, like someone at home had opened a door to welcome her to safety. She looked around, hoping to see the entrance to the cave.
But there was nothing. The stream stretched on, the only line of dark in her otherwise white world. She clung to it until she could walk no further. She bowed her head as she stopped to gather her breath.
And there, lying perfectly still, was a snowman with the most peculiar eyes.
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Illustration © Carl Pugh