The Stars of Winter

Prologue

     Lilit's hair began to stand on the back of her neck. She could feel something slipping through the distant mountains. It was coming.
     Snow.
     Well before the clouds rolled in, before the air turned sharp with cold, even before the birds went quiet, she knew. Breathing deeply, she could smell it creeping into existence.
     Her first clear memories were of snow. Sprinting out the back door, hinges groaning, so full of excitement, she could taste it. Beyond the mineskule village that sat perched upon a mountain ridge, higher than birds could fly, her thoughts would up past the clouds. The smell of snow greeting her with its sharp perfume, blooming into the metallic tang of blizzards or the earthy wisps of large, feathery flakes. Snow was home, each crystal a welcomed kiss upon her cheeks.
     With the approaching snow her father would slip into one of his heavy silences. They would wait for the first flake to fall. Then another test would begin. The tests turned her love of snow into dread, as each year she pushed herself further.
     I must be quieter, quicker.
      The test was very simple. Make it to the flag, don't be seen and never, ever make a sound.
With each passing year Lillit got better, withstanding the cold longer, hiding her tracks more skillfully. At first, with the exuberance of a child, she wanted to win as quickly as possible. Wanted to make him proud. Wanted to return to the warm, dry cabin they shared together, just the two of them, mother long gone.
     But Papa was never satisfied, he barely spoke to her at all now. As winters passed, her hawkish child's body became fuller, taller and she started to look more like Her. He sometimes stared at her with a far away look in his eyes. A look of pain, of dread. Later, Papa no longer spoke or looked at her at all.
      The tests become longer. The little flag further and further away. More and more, father's displeasure chilled her much deeper than blue toes and her snot, chapped upper lip.
      Lillit hummed to herself an old mountain ballad and warmed her hands with her breath. Swaying gently in the breeze, her icy perch a perfect view of the mountain ridges and the stark drop to the valleys below. For several years now she had taken her time finding the flag. She began to take pleasure in making Papa stay out in the snow for the night too. This was her favorite cedar and she planned to make this last test painful for both of them. Afterall, there was no warmth in victory.

My lot grew lighter day by day;
The children grew apace;
I built a little house last May--
No palace like that place.
And--"Father," said she, "sure you know
That once we ate dry bread?
Into our own house now we go!"--
The mother, she is dead!

Slow and steadily she hummed. She could see father from here. Knew that she was down wind and her humming would drift away from his ears.
The hunter becomes the hunted,Papa.
     Usually, she wanted to wait to win until it was too late for church. So she could go straight to Ariana's house. They would eat warm bean soup, pick at her guitar and take turns reading ragged paperbacks. They were the only two young girls left in town, they dreamed of leaving together. Areanna's cozy bedroom was now wallpapered with photos from old calendars. Pictures of Egypt, Italy, New York and all the places that existed beyond the Appalachians. Even the towns in the valleys below, were as foreign and remote as anything .
     They made up stories from these pictures and lived in tattered paperbacks the church had thrown out. Books were always being donated by tourists, but most were not considered " right". These would end up in the bin behind the church, with its emblem of a snake in a bush, and would be burned on the rubbish heap. Romances, encyclopedias, anything that was too dangerous for their delicate souls would be discarded. Lillit would fish them out of the bin at night, and scandalize Areanna with Daniel Steele and Stephen King the next afternoon.
     They read in the woods and made songs named after wild flowers: snowdrops, ladyslipper, buttercup, thistle. Stories of adventure, travel, cunning and romance to contrast with the old songs of despair, loneliness and death.
     As the branch swayed she softly tapped out and mouthed Sweet William. Songs that rang true for generations of coal miners and homesteaders. All gone now, the town left to scrape by through sheer infamy and ignorance.
      People did travel to see the town that time forgot. Winding up the mountain road in their rentals and weekend cars.
     Showtime!
     Everyone would put away their jeans and T-shirts for colorful skirts, quant vests and played the merry hosts. Ramp dinners, faschnauts steaming and even the lambs became part of the show. They were cleaned, fluffed and decked in ribbons before being silently slaughtered behind the barn and later consumed by our guests. The humor of it wouldn't strike home until she was older. As a small child she didn't blink at butchering, she was as ignorant of the lives of people outside of her mountain perch as the visitors were of them.
     But she knew enough to get out of church as often as she could.
     Once, she had liked the stories, the music and how silly, the generally reserved, town folk behaved. Writing on the floor, speaking nonsense and kissing snakes. Sometimes she would take part and flail around on the floor like a shot pheasant. She and Adriana squealing in amusement later that evening.
It was when the Winter's girl got sick, that the laughter stopped altogether. The church's revivals were no longer amusing to the two girls, becoming desperate, wild and frightening.
     Saved. She was going to be saved. They stopped the treatments that the valley doctor prescribed. Neighbors started slipping snakes into each others homes. Hoping a snake bite might root out the "evil" that started visiting other family's children.
     "Pastor Perceval says the snakes only bite sinners. That is, must be sinners brought the sickness to Winter's house. Momma says, I should just keep my mouth shut, say yes mam, no mam". Areanna's nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought.
     " till it all blows over and people get some damn sense", the girls screamed out in unison. Then giggling they would take turns telling each other to get some " damn sense".
     Secret sisters. Confidants. Blood sisters.
     They had even gone so far as to prick their little fingers and cement the deal with blood.
     A breeze swayed Lilit's crouched figure in the treetop. Bringing her back to the present. To the bitter cold. She contemplated ending the test so she could warm her fingers on the radiator. Papa was now stalking around below. She had the flag in her pocket. He had buried it this time. Still, it called to her and she had found it easily. Resentment kept her perched, the cold now within.
     Things had never gone back to normal and sense damned or otherwise had never crept back into their neighbors. Least of all her father. Papa's tests once limited to snowy, full-moon lit nights became more regular.
     Yet she continued to fetch that little red flag, faster each time, until she started to challenge herself in new ways. Getting the things she needed to leave.
     The out of towners felt secure by their charming fires with steaming cups of hot cocoa. Satellite phones, jewelry and valuables would be silently ferreted away. By the time the innkeeper realized that there was a regular thief she already had all she needed.
     Areanna and her mother would exchange knowing glances the next morning, having once again woke to find her huddled form wrapped around the radiator in the hall.
    Before school one morning Areanna had said to her, " you should live with me. Like sisters. Mamma said it's ok. Paster Perceval hates your daddy too. He'll make sure you can stay here. Don't ya wont to?"
     There was fear behind her eyes when she asked.          Truth is, Lillit had started hanging around in the woods, even when Daddy wasn't trying to teach her a lesson. Her hate for him grew with every day but he couldn't get her to hate the woods, with all its beauty and little secrets only she knew. When she finally left, it was the forest she mourned.
     As for Areanna, they drifted apart. The "sisters" would never move in together. They would never leave together. The blood sister's pact, would be lost to Areanna's mother's illness and Lillit's need to get as far away from the darkness that swept over their little village.
     How long would he look for her? She didn't care. Balancing on the icy boughs, Lillit walked most of the way down the mountain without touching the ground.
     It all just slipped away.
     Areanna would stay, Lillit would go far away, and the trees would become just trees again.