...and a partridge in a pear tree

[04] four calling birds

        Her heart warmed; it finally felt like Christmas.

        “Where is our inflatable this year, hm?” she asked her parents after admiring the lights.

        Her mom grinned widely, pulling out a large box from the corner of the musty garage. “Here it is.”

        Holly cut through the scotch tape and gushed at the inflatable before her. “It’s an Olaf!” Taking out the heavy plastic, her dad helped her.

        “Let’s get him inflated, then.”

        With the brand new Olaf in the middle of the lawn, it looked like a scene from Frozen itself.

        Making their way inside once again, Holly could feel the warmth enveloping her.

        “Who wants Hot Cocoa?” Holly’s mother called, causing the tiny Mistletoes to scurry down the stairs.

        The youngest of the Mistletoes, Jerry, pushed through his other siblings. “Me! I want, Mommy!” His small hands reached for the mug.

        “Does mine have marshmallows?” Gemma asked, taking a mug. She looked into the cup and grinned. “They do!” She took a sip and shrieked. “Mommy! It’s too hot!”

        Holly laughed at her younger siblings. Her older sister Meadow seemed to be in a hurry as she clambered down the stairs, carefully grabbing two mugs.

        “Two?” Holly raised an eyebrow, the start of a grin quirking her lips. “Are you sure you need that much?”

        Meadow shook her head, a quick laugh escaping her lips. “Oh, one for Andrew,” she explained, referring to the eldest Mistletoe. “He has the flu or something, asked me to get one for him.”

        Holly frowned. “Wasn’t he sick last week? Gosh, he should go to the doctor already!”

        Meadow nodded vigorously. “That’s what I said! You know how men are about the doctor though.” She rolled her eyes, the cocoa sloshing in her mug.

            . . .

        Holly bundled up with every bit of winter gear that she owned; her Olympic red mittens and scarf deemed as the perfect attire for the cold weather. Snow fell heavily; Ontario expected about twenty centimeters by just the end of the night. Holly didn’t mind, considering it meant the streets would look even more Christmas-y.

        It was around 6pm when she arrived at the bus stop. Luke arrived moments later, barely bundled up for the hunt. She glared at him, appraising his attire.

        “Are you trying to get sick?” she grumbled. Luke shot her an unamused look, pursing his lips.

        “You’d probably get sick before I did.”

        Rolling her eyes, they proceeded to sit in silence, waiting to see the headlights of the bus in the fog. Holly shivered and coughed, shaking on the bench. She quickly glanced at Luke, trying to copy the way he sat straight and unbothered. Although she had on so many more layers than him, she couldn’t understand why she felt a steady stream of wind.

        “Maybe we should cancel the hunt today.” Luke broke the silence, genuinely seeming worried as he turned to her. “It’s cold, and snow is falling like crazy-”

        Holly interrupted, shaking her head. “No! It isn’t-” she coughed. “Cold!”

        Suddenly, the sounds of guitars and drums travelled through the air towards them, a tidal wave of sound.