The Snow Prince

Chapter 3: Protection and prayers

The merchant wasn't particularly good company. But perhaps it was Alex that was lacking. He mostly sat staring at the flowers Isabelle had given him. He could clearly remember what his mother's book step said about verbena flowers. "Pray for me." They were said to be protection against wickedness. He just couldn't understand how the tiny purple flowers had managed to fight through the snow that seemed to smother everything. Their vibrant colour seemed a warning to him, but he couldn't tell what of. 

Alex was glad of the lift though. The snow- as always- was thick and the air was brisk and cold. It seemed to chill even his bones despite his thick coat. To have to walk in this, it would have taken him more than a day. The flowers may have survived the harsh weather without any help, but Alex was sure that he would not.

The two spent their journey in silence. The merchant thinking of his fortune and his return to his former glory, and Alex musing on the appearance of the flowers and his luck selling his little wooden creations in town. He could whittle away at a block of wood and make it into a wolf, a duck, a snowflake, anything that was requested. His hands held the scars of small nicks from all his years perfecting his craft. While his face was round and soft- with no angles or harsh lines to speak of- with his big round hazel eyes and his soft curls of auburn hair; his hands showed the signs of his practice and labour.

The city was a near day away from Alex's home, even by cart, however even in the darkening twilight the town was bustling with activity. Alex said his thanks and goodbye to the merchant, and wished him luck in his endeavours. 

"I don't need luck when I have money boy."

A foolish statement in retrospect, but alas, it is a story for another time.

Alex found himself a room for the night. It was small and plain but it was cheap and clean, so Alex had little to complain about. He had already secured a space on a vendor's stall, a kind man by the name of Paul who had lived in the village when Alex was a young lad. Knowing that Paul was friends with his mother, Alex had written to him a fortnight ago; asking for his help. He was hopeful that he would make enough coin to live by, and if he did, he may have to arrange something with Paul for the future.

Alex found himself restless though. He got out of the plain white sheets he was given and went over to his clothes that were folded neatly on a chair. He picked up his thick coat and plucked the little purple blooms from his front pocket. Isabella had been worried for him, sweet girl that she was, but what reason did she need to pray for him? Alex knew of her doubts about her family's sudden rise in fortune. She felt it too good to be true. So why not give the flowers to her father? But Alex already knew. Her father would have cast away the flowers and her warnings aside, as he had cast off Alex when they reached the city.

Alex went back to bed with the flowers in hand. He lay his head down on his pillow and let the blizzard outside soothe him to sleep. The bundle of verbena would be lost among the sheets and forgotten. It's protection and prayers left in that plain room when Alex set off in the morning.