Birdsong, sharp and loud, woke me.

I blinked away sleep and sat up. Sunlight spilled through the dirty windows, illuminating stars of dust particles. Doux was gone.

Connie and August were gone. A normal situation, considering their respective jobs as a carpenter and an accountant. I tended to be the last to leave in the morning.

It was already light outside. In winter. That meant the bakery was already open.

I was late.

I exploded off my cot, threw on my clothes, and hastily brushed down my wild hair. I jumped into my boots and coat and rushed out the door. I nearly slipped on a patch of ice as I dashed into the village.

The residents were out in force today. Crowds of traders and farmers flowed by each other, their carts and animals and bodies packed tightly together. Children climbed on and threw snowballs at the great raven statue before their disgruntled parents told them to stop. Everyone was bundled up tightly in thick furs and coats, though that did little good in the bitter chill.

I waded through the crowd of people until I saw the bakery. Just home. I thought as I approached the door. It’s not like you have a job anymore anyway.

The little bell over the door’s chime was barely heard by the mob of people inside. A small crowd was stuffed into the small shop. Duke stood behind the counter wearing his filthy apron and fake smile.

I slinked through the crowd to the counter. Duke gave me a venomous look before snapping back to his more pleasant mask for the crowd. If only any of you knew how easily he changed them, I thought to the customers.

I found a corner of the store not occupied by people and began cleaning. Snow and mud covered the floor. The ever-increasing flood of people didn’t help things either. People kept bumping me this way and that as I tried to find space to move. I apologized to each of them, a reflexive action at this point.

I sat in the back to catch my breath. Just a few hours more, I thought as I rubbed sweat from my face. I wondered why we even needed to be working on Christmas Eve. Then I remembered how everyone needed pastries for better or worse.

As I stood, I noticed something move on the floor. Duke’s always so adamant about killing vermin, I thought, confused. Could he be slipping? Or am I just tired? I shrugged and grabbed my broom again.

The customers kept coming despite the waning hours of the day. I wondered how Genny was managing the oven back there. I hoped she was alright. She was old enough to be my grandmother, but she worked so hard here. If anything happened to her, I don’t know what I’d do, I thought as I swept up a bundle of sticks and leaves. If she ever got hurt—

“Rat!” Someone shrieked.

The store buzzed with panicked screams and hurried stomping of feet. I rushed to the spot of the commotion. A small circle of guests had formed around an area on the floor. People were stomping and yelling as the rat scurried to escape the circle.

I watched a foot hurtle downward as Doux stared up in horror.

My shoulder connected with the customer, an older man in a red coat, and sent him sprawling to the floor. The crowd gasped as I bent down to collect Doux. His furry blob of a body shook furiously. His little eyes were wide with fear. “It’s alright,” I said to the rat. “You’re safe now.”

“What the hell is going on?” Duke pushed through the crowd. His gaze drew from the man on the floor and then to me with the rat in my hands.

The events of the past few minutes finally set in. I realized what I had just done.

“Get out,” Duke said curtly.

Without another word, I untied my apron and left the store.

The wind stung my cheeks and froze my uncovered hands. I didn’t care. I was numb inside and out. Even the feeling of Doux curled inside my pocket did little to remedy how I felt. I’d proven to myself what I always knew: I was worthless, barely above the dirt I walked on every day.

Of all the things to cost me my lowly position as a sweeper at the bakery, it had to be a rat. In Duke’s eyes, I no doubt was the same as a rodent. I knew knocking over the customer was wrong. But in between my job and my friend, I chose the friend.

You chose poorly, I said as I sulked home.

I was the first one home today. After taking Doux back to my room, I sat at the dining table. In the dead silence of the house, I was alone with my thoughts. The wind howled outside as the retreating daylight sapped any warmth from the surroundings. I hadn’t lit a fire. I almost didn’t want to. I wanted to freeze to death.

I needed to draw something.

I found some spare paper on the nearby table. I searched through the fireplace for a large piece of charcoal. I whittled the end of the charcoal down to a point, then placed the paper on the table.

I envisioned a city street, specifically the street I walked down with Mother when I was young. Like peering through water, I slowly allowed the memory to grow clear enough to see. I roughly sketched in everything, letting the pencil do the work. Once I defined the basic proportions, I let myself go. For a moment, I forget where I was and the immediate past. I was in control here. I was free.

“What are you doing home?” August’s voice snapped me from my fugue. He stood in the doorway in the doorway, red-faced with his ragged coat covered in snow.

His harsh gaze instantly made me shrink. “I—I lost my job.” I pushed away the paper and charcoal pencil.

August sighed and shook his head before hanging up his coat.

I thought about what I could say to explain myself. It didn’t matter. I’d proven my lack of worth twice already today.

“Genny’s coming with a Yule Log.” I tried to say, but August didn’t acknowledge me.

In defeat, I wandered the fireplace and lit it. I sat and glumly stared into the fire. I didn’t acknowledge Connie when he came in. I think he said something. I didn’t hear it.

Night’s dark blue curtain soon spread over everything. The fireplace blazed warm orange from the hearth. The smell of cooked meat filled the air. Something other than vegetable stew was quite a relief.

Genny arrived not soon after with her Yule Log and fresh bread from the bakery. She helped Connie prepare dinner. Meanwhile, August set the table while I sat by the fire. I didn’t feel like moving much.

A large ham on a plate appeared, with vegetable stew following soon after.

We ate our Christmas dinner in silence. The shadow of today’s events hung over us. I knew everyone knew it. And on top of that, Mother still wasn’t home. I kept my eyes on my food. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was thinking. I didn’t want them to know the shame of my actions or the stinging indictment of my being a part of this family. I wanted to disappear into my bowl of soup.

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“I must say, Constantine, this ham is amazing.” Genny finally said. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“We brought a recipe book from Paris. One of the few things we didn’t sell to the creditors, right August?” Connie nudged his brother. August acknowledged Connie with rolled eyes.

“Well, it’s very good.” Genny smiled. “If you want, I would very much like to share my Yule Log recipe with you. Have you tried baking?”

“Once or twice.”

“Consider it my Christmas present to you all. I know you’re not in great circumstances, but if I can help you in any way I can—”

BANG. A cold wind blasted through the cottage. The candles and fireplace went out instantly. Snow flew in circling flurries through the air.

We turned, startled, to the front door. A solitary figure stood in the doorway, covered in thick furs and a face hidden by a scarf. She swayed, then clutched the doorframe with mittened hands.

Mother.

Everyone jumped from our seats to help her. Connie caught Mother as she slipped and fell toward the floor. August shut the door, and I ran to find a blanket. Genny worked to get the fire going again.

We brought Mother to the chair by the fireplace. Her hands were frigid. Her face, once barely touched by age, now sported many more lines and wrinkles. Her brown curly hair was streaked gray. Her eyes were baggy and hollow.

We peeled her coat and wet boots off her and dressed in warmer clothes and whatever blankets we could find. The fire soon reignited. Its warmth washed over us as we surrounded her.

I couldn’t believe it. It had felt like an eternity since she’d been here. But here she was. “You’re home,” I said, my voice like a child. I hugged Mother.

“I am,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I’m home.” She pulled us all into a hug, including Genny. We stayed embraced together for a long time, our collective warmth passing on to Mother.

“What do you need?” Connie asked.

“I need some tea.” Mother requested. “And food, please.”

Everyone dispersed and came back with her requested items. We sat and watched her eat in silence. We had no words for what was happening. What could we possibly say?

“I owe you all an explanation.” Mother said after setting aside her plate of leftover ham and potatoes.

“That’s what you call it,” August muttered.

“August!” Connie chided. “What happened, Mother?”

Mother’s face became grave. “Something… unexpected.”

I blanched with fear. “What does that mean?”

Mother sipped her tea. “The horse got injured, so I had to rest at an inn for a while. When her condition didn’t improve, I had to sell her for a new one. But that seller, the fiend, ripped me off. I was left with barely enough money. But I still managed to make it to port regardless.”

“What about the ship?” Connie said.

“It was a miracle it survived at all. They barely survived making their way along the African coast before returning to France. When I checked the below deck, this was all that was left of our goods—” Mother produced a single damp piece of silk. “All of it soaked through. Useless.”

August sighed in frustration.

“Then, on the way back, the weather suddenly turned horrible. White-out blizzards for days at a time. I ran out of money at one point and had to sleep in stables. After a point, I decided I would return home at any cost. I rode through a blizzard when I was only a day’s journey from the village. That was the worst mistake I could’ve made.”

We huddled closer in equal measures of eagerness and fear.

“The woods were impenetrable. I could barely see my hands or my horse in front of me. And the cold… Then my horse twisted its leg on a rock and fell. Then the wolves were upon us.” Mother shut her eyes. “I can still hear her screaming.”

“Then how did you get back? Did someone help you?” Connie ventured.

Mother shook her head. “I found shelter. But it wasn’t the village.”

No, I thought. That’s impossible.

“I found… a manor. A massive thing, just sitting there in the middle of the forest.” Mother took another sip of her tea.

“A what?” August said. “What do you mean a manor?”

“I cannot say exactly what happened. It was like a waking dream. It was a great dark place, like a tomb. There were statues everywhere, statues that whispered to each other and myself. But there was not a living soul present anywhere. Except… it.” Mother’s grip tightened around her teacup. “That creature. It was tall, with claws like an eagle. And it’s eyes… It let me stay and gave me food and a place to sleep. I thought that would’ve been enough. But I took something from it, and now it requires my life in exchange for it.”

“A life? For what?” I asked in disbelief.

Mother reached into her pocket and placed something on the side table.

As I took it in my hands, a thousand piercing daggers stabbed into my heart.

It was a simple inkbrush, clad in ivory and polished wood.

“It was the only gift I could manage,” she whispered.

The world drained away as I stared at the inkbrush. I only heard my heartbeat as this tiny instrument that spelled the doom of my mother lay in my hands.

“The terms are this: I remain in the manor as recompense for the theft. In exchange, you will all be taken care of. This family will never go hungry ever again.” Mother continued. “I was allowed to return home for this night, to say goodbye. Tomorrow, I am to return to the manor.” She finished her tea and set the cup aside. “That is why I was gone for so long.”

A cold silence fell over the room. Only the wind outside could be heard.

“What are we supposed to do with that?” Connie finally said after a time. “What the hell are we supposed to even say to that?”

“We say nothing. The deal is done.” Mother answered.

“No!” August exclaimed. “This is ridiculous! We’re not going to accept this. You’re not accepting this. We’re Dufresnes! This doesn’t happen to us!”

“I made my decision, August.”

“Then we’ll all go to that manor and force it to rescind the deal! If that Beast thinks it can do this to us—”

“Enough!” Mother shouted. We fell silent. “I’m sorry it had to be this way. I knew I would leave you all someday. I wish it wasn’t so soon. But this will be for the best.”

“Mother’s right.” Connie sighed. “If it means we’ll be better off, then we’ll have to accept it.”

“We shouldn’t,” August muttered.

“What are we to do, then?” I said, still staring at the brush.

“Let’s just… sit by the fire together. One last time.” Mother said.

That’s how we spent the remainder of Christmas Eve, huddled together in that cold dark cottage while the fire slowly burned down. Then one by one we said good night to Mother and went to our corners of the room. We made a small cot for Genny, as letting her walk home in the dark would’ve been cruel.

Before I left for my bed, I placed the inkbrush on Mother’s lap.

“Take it.” Mother handed me back the brush. “Please.”

“I don’t want it,” I said.

“It’s your gift, Marius. Please.”

“Mother—”

She took my hand and closed it around the inkbrush. “To remember me by.”

“I don’t want to remember you this way.”

“Neither do I. But this is the way it has to be.” Mother said sadly. She pulled me into a hug and kissed me on the cheek. “I love you, little prince.”

Tears welled in my eyes. She and Father named us after Roman generals, but I was her “little prince.” Hearing it again after all these years was like a stake in my heart.

I said nothing, simply leaving for my corner and settling down into bed. Doux scampered to me and stood on his hind legs, whiskers twitching. I picked him up and scratched his head.

“I’m going somewhere,” I said to the rat. “Can you come with me?”

Doux leaned into my finger. That seemed like a yes.

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

Then, Christmas Day came with the cold light of morning.

I felt Doux’s body rise and fall through my hands. As the dark slowly faded with the rising sun, I executed my plan.

With absolute silence, I put on my coat and boots, safely putting Doux in one pocket and the inkbrush in the other.

A noise snapped my attention to the rest of the house. Genny, August, and Connie all slept near each other. All were soundly dreaming and not making a sound.

Mother was asleep by the fireplace. She looked peaceful wrapped in her cocoon of blankets. I considered giving her one last kiss. But I couldn’t wake her up. Not after what I was about to do.

A haze of gentle snowfall fell from the gray sky. The surrounding trees were dusted with white. I shivered as the wind picked up. The chill seemed to pass through me to my bones.

Here I am, I thought. Now what?

A horse’s nicker followed by a hollow whistling broke the silence. Heavy footsteps followed soon after.

Out of the sheet of white strode a large horse. It towered over me, over seven tall at least. Its body was made of smooth gray stone. With every movement it made, cracks formed and then immediately reformed all over its body. Whenever the horse breathed, a hollow whistle blasted from its flaring nostrils.

It approached me, then stopped. Its unblinking, shining eyes stared down at me.

The horse then bowed its head. It lowered its massive body to the ground with a sound of grinding stone. Its large leather saddle laid open to me.

“Get back in the house!” I turned to see Mother striding toward me, her expression manic.

“No,” I answered, voice shaking.

“Marius Dufresne, get back into the house right now!” She said, her hands grabbing me and spinning me around. Tears were streaming down her face. “Get back inside, damn you!”

I fought back my tears.

“Please—” Mother choked.

I broke away from her and climbed onto the horse.

The sudden heat of my tears stung my cold cheeks. As the horse rose, I turned back just in time to see Mother on her knees in the snow. She was weeping.

“I love you, Mother,” I whispered as we disappeared into the forest.