“…And she finishes with a perfect Triple Axel! What a performance by Adda Fischer and Johann Bach!” The announcer’s voice boomed over the cacophony of applause. As we bowed, my face felt like it was going to split in half, I was smiling so wide. That day Johann and I accepted silver medals for Pairs Figure Skating on behalf of Germany, putting us squarely in Olympic history.
I. Made. History!
I washed and dressed myself in a stupor, still not believing what had just happened to me. Not even my increasing headache could remove my grin.
The thrum started to build.
The thrum is something that happens to me randomly, and invariably absorbs my attention. If I don’t stop what I’m doing, it can turn into a migraine in an instant. I usually just wait for it to ebb away, but right now Johann and I needed to make our exit to the car that’d take us to our hotel.
We made our way through the crowd of reporters, relentlessly besieging us with questions. I answered what questions I could hear, but the pounding in my skull was growing more intense by the second. My hand flew to my head to stop the high-pitched thrumming from stabbing my brain. I pinched my eyes closed and massaged my temples.
The pain suddenly stopped. The lights and noise and dizziness evaporated. Although I could still faintly hear the thrum, it didn't hurt anymore. Confused, I cautiously opened my eyes.
The first thing I noticed was the sun raised in the sky. I had to blink rapidly and rub my eyes to get them accustomed to the sudden light. The crowd was gone. The van, the road, Johann, the stadium were all gone. I found myself completely alone, surrounded by trees more magical than my home country’s Black Forest. Thick snow floated lazily around me. Yet I felt no ill effects; neither cold nor wet. In fact, I could somehow see perfectly well, despite the snow’s density.
“Hello Adda,” said a voice from somewhere in front of me.
I jumped in surprise; I was looking right at the spot where I’d heard him speak. As I stared, a man seemed to pull together from the snow around him, as if he were a magnet attracting snow to make up his form. His face was the last to appear; a sharp face. But his smile made his features seem to soften to a pleasant sort of icicle; beautiful, but still dangerous.
"Wh-who're you?" I stammered.
"Jack," he said quickly.
I waited for a last name… When he didn't give one I asked, "How did I get here?"
"I brought you here, of course," he said with a glint in his eye. "I already told you as much." He absentmindedly brushed some snow off his shoulder.
"Uuum…" Is he crazy? I thought. Am I? I tried wrapping my brain around this hallucination… or magic? I couldn't decide which. "Okay. Why did you bring me here?"
"Because you dance with winter unlike anyone I've ever seen!" he looked me in the eye with surprising passion, the conversation finally landing on something interesting.
“Thank you,” I said, looking down to hide the flush creeping into my cheeks. “But that doesn’t answer my question,” I looked back up to see his smile widen. “Why did you bring me here?” I repeated.
He made a sound between a giggle and a cackle. “I want you to heal my legion!” he said dramatically, and, with a flourish, he motioned behind himself while bowing.
My eyes widened to dinner plates. The forest fell away, as if the ground beneath us rose to become a tall hilltop. The experience felt like I'd just bounced on a giant trampoline. I saw a massive valley spanning before us, with the white of snow spackled throughout its lush greenery. Trees skirted the horizon.
“Whoah,” I said.
He turned to grin at me. “You’re the first human to keep their footing while I do that. Usually it gives me quite a good laugh!" He almost laughed anyway. "But I’m still delighted that I chose so well with you!” I stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t elaborate.
“Where’s the legion?” I asked, my eyes scanning the empty landscape.
He laughed, but it was muffled. I turned to see him covering his mouth with an icy-blue hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, making a show of stopping his chuckles. “It’s a lesion, not a legion.”
“Alright then. Where’s the lesion?”
His smile disappeared faster than if I’d slapped him in the face. “Where’s th-the…” he sputtered. “Where’s the lesi–it’s right there!” He pointed down at the valley.
I stared at it, waiting to suddenly see a ravine or something.
“The green!” he snarled.
I turned to see his face contorted with disgust as he looked down on the beautiful vista. His snow-icicle features seemed to twist into something that didn’t look remotely human.
I nodded slowly, not letting my face betray my fear.
“The green…” I began, still thinking. “...Is hurting you?” He jerked a nod, not taking his eyes off the offending grass. “What’s causing it?”
He took a breath to answer, but at that moment a white hare popped up out of the snow at my feet. I jumped in surprise a second time, but as soon as I saw his flawless soft fur I instinctively bent down to pet him.
This wasn’t the first time I’d had woodland creatures approach me. My family always called me a squirrel-whisperer, but I didn’t do anything; I guess the animals just knew they could trust me. Sometimes it even seemed like they understood my soothing words.
“Well hello little guy,” I cooed.
In hindsight, my first clue that something was wrong should’ve been that the rabbit’s facial features changed when it looked up at me; or that it had hard nubs on the top of its head. But my actual first clue was Jack’s sharp gasp.
“Little?!?!” squeaked the rabbit, hopping up to bite my outstretched hand. A scream escaped my lips as I leaped away. But my legs wouldn’t respond properly and I fell on my butt. The fresh snow should’ve softened my landing, but instead it felt as hard as frozen dirt.
The rabbit seemed satisfied with my reaction and turned to Jack. “The goblins are on our border, my Lord.”
Jack gave an angry sound like ice striking concrete. “Thank you, Turntail." He waved his arms around in some sort of ritual or spell. A sleigh pulled together from snow, in the same way Jack had. It had a sleek birch-white look, with a padded seat that was just the right size for two people. If I hadn't felt embarrassed for being ignorant and clumsy (and terrified from almost getting my fingers bitten off by a talking rabbit) I probably would've thought it a rather romantic Christmas-sleigh.
"Come," he said sternly. Then, not waiting for me to finish soothing my bruised bum, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. I barely had time to say, “wait, what?” before he twirled a hand near my legs and a cold wind blew me up and into the white padded seat quickly, yet surprisingly gently. I let out the breath I'd been holding as Jack nimbly jumped into the spot beside mine.
Words failed me as I stared at what happened next. The rabbit, Turntail, hopped toward the front of the sleigh as if preparing to pull it. He was joined by five more rabbits from somewhere beneath the snow. As they took their positions, they grew in size. The nubs on their heads grew into horns, forking twice to make fiercely sharp weapons. Jack grabbed a handful of loose snow on the front of the sleigh and threw it out over the two-feet-tall hares. Where it clung to their fur, it solidified from hare to hare like a spiderweb. The strands crisscrossed up toward Jack. He grabbed the silver-white rope, and gave it a firm tug. Any stray snow that hadn’t secured itself to the rest of the glittering harness snapped into place.
In an instant we were flying down the hillside. The hares' bounding strides produced surprisingly little jerking in the sleigh. It was more exhilarating than skydiving, with the wind ripping my hair out of its careful double bun. We surged to the side, and before I could fully reposition myself, we stopped so fast I flew forward. I would’ve gone face-first into the wooden front panel if Jack hadn’t thrust his hand out to grab my shoulder. He slid forward a little, but at least we both didn’t topple over.
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly.
He wasn’t paying attention to me, though. He was looking forward, unblinking.
I turned to see what had him so transfixed. My stomach lurched, threatening to bring up my lunch.
I saw grass that would’ve been green and lush, if it hadn’t been painted red with the bodies of white animals. Jack slowly exited the sleigh. The harness-reigns had disappeared and all six jackalopes were hopping alongside him. They looked a lot like the security guards that accompanied me sometimes as I traveled through the stadium for the Olympics. Except these were giant horned bunnies instead of giant black-suited gun carriers.
“Cowards,” Jack said under his breath. I had stayed inside the sleigh, and I wasn’t sure my constitution could handle getting closer to the… Well, I just couldn’t get out.
Jack only wandered ten feet from the sleigh, surveying with a critical eye. As he walked back toward me I started to hear the familiar painful thrum. I closed my eyes to wait for it to pass.
It subsided enough for me to open my eyes. When I did, Jack had stopped walking. He was looking at me with a peculiar expression, like he couldn’t decide if he felt suspicious or excited.
“Adda,” he said softly, like I do when coaxing a frightened animal. I raised my eyebrows and he hesitated. “...Can you hear The Call?”
“Das was?” I asked, inadvertently slipping into my native tongue.
“The goblins…” he said tentatively, as if testing to see if I burst into flames from the words. I shook my head, still confused.
“She’s rather dim,” Turntail remarked to a jackalope next to him. That jackalope turned with wide eyes toward me, terrified that I’d strike him down or something.
Jack rolled his eyes at Turntail, then said to me, “the goblins have a call they use to coordinate their attacks. None of my people can understand their messages, although some can hear it faintly…" He glanced at Turntail. "Do you hear them?”
The hope in his eyes broke my heart. I couldn’t say ‘yes’; it was just a headache!
I started to shake my head, when the thrum came so fast a gasp caught in my throat. I closed my eyes and put my forehead into my palms. However, instead of waiting for it to pass, this time I decided to try to listen to it.
I didn’t hear any words. But I did feel the sensation of fleeing. I looked around, but the migraine made my vision blurry and red-rimmed. I knew a group of creatures were running for their lives, and I had the oddest sensation that I was one of them. I finally got an idea which way the feeling—my feeling—originated from. I pointed slowly, shakily. The pain was causing my entire body to clench, from my teeth down to my toes. This thrum wasn’t letting up.
Why isn’t it going away?
The next thing I knew, we were flying across the ground again. The biting wind drove the thrum away faster than any painkiller. I opened my eyes to see only snow, but the grotesque image of all those bodies still clung to my vision.
“Why are the goblins attacking you?” I asked Jack in an attempt to distract myself.
“We’ve been at war since the beginning,” he said grimly. His original playful attitude had fled with the presence of these goblins.
“You don’t know why?” I asked in astonishment. “Have you tried diplomacy at all?”
He turned to look at me, and his expression matched mine to a tee.
“Diplomacy?” he asked with a mirthless laugh. “Goblins don’t speak our language. They don’t speak at all. All they do is kill and murder. That’s all they are: death.”
I sat back in my seat. That didn’t make any sense. Animals don’t just kill for the sake of killing. And he'd just said they spoke to each other! So what kind of creatures were they? Did they kill for pleasure? Food? Land? Why?
“How do they bring the green?” I asked.
“When their power grows and ours fades,” Jack said simply.
“And how does that happen?” Even through the loud wind, I could hear Turntail give a derisive snort.
“I understand that humans are unfamiliar with magic,” Jack said slowly, over-articulating as if I couldn’t understand him. He took my blank stare as confirmation. “Magic flows like a river. If more water pools in one place, it has to leave the first. If they get more magic, it must leave us first.” There was a pause before he said with quiet finality, “we need the magic to live.”
It was clear the conversation was over. But my mind was still racing as fast as we were.
So you have to hoard the magic to stay alive? I thought. If things in this world need magic to live, then it’s reasonable to assume the goblins need magic just as much as Jack and his winter people. And if green hurts him, white must hurt them.
So while Jack saw them as intrusive murdering thieves, could it be possible that they saw him as a tyrannical murdering hoarder?
We traveled up a hill, and when we reached the top we picked up speed by leaps and bounds (not figuratively). I saw what were presumably a couple dozen goblins, riding creatures that looked like hyenas. As we drew closer, I was able to make out their form.
Goblins looked remarkably like upright pigs. The one closest to me wore a mud-colored cloth across its midsection and had a peach-green tinge to its skin. It was about four feet tall, and must’ve had opposable thumbs on its hooves because it held a spear with one hoof and the neck-fur of the hyena-thing with the other.
The goblin turned around to look at us, and its black eyes widened. We made eye contact for a moment. But that moment was enough to tell me tenfold more than what Jack’s eyes communicated. Jack’s gaze was fleeting, guarded, and penetrating. The goblin’s was frightened, vulnerable, and…honest. Instinctually I knew that, although terrified, they were not the eyes of a murderer.
The thrum crashed into me then. It clearly emanated from these creatures and transitioned from, frightened retreat to sheer terror as our sleigh drew closer. That’s the last thing I remember before the thrum raked its claws across my brain. I felt such pain in my mind and body as I’d never experienced before.
Everything went black.
I slowly opened my eyes.
“You’ve quite the scream,” Jack said jovially. I gave a groan as he helped me sit up on the cushioned seat. “I could use a voice like that to relay orders to my troops!”
My mind felt groggy, but soon enough, I recalled the goblin’s eyes, and I instantly sobered.
“Where are they? Were any of them hurt?” I asked while turning my head away from him. I expected to see more carnage, but I was surprised to see only freshly fallen snow. Not a drop of blood in sight. “Oh,” I breathed.
Was I disappointed? Relieved? Elated? I couldn’t say exactly. But I do know that I was incredibly grateful that none of the goblins had been killed. Even if their existence threatened Jack’s life, I hated to think of more death than what I’d already seen.
I looked back at Jack and found myself surprised again. His jovial expression became tainted with a downturned mouth and hardened eyes.
“Alas, they were.” He raised his hand toward a mound of snow. “We lost Wicken in the battle. I’m just glad we had time to bury him in white, unlike our fallen comrades we found earlier.” Only then did I notice there were only five jackalopes getting re-harnessed to the sleigh. …And their antlers had reddened tips.
“Oh no,” I groaned, looking over the fresh snow with a new perspective. It was lumpy and not uniform as snow should be on flat ground, and I knew I’d been mistaken.
My heart plummeted.
Jack threw more snow in front of him to make reins, and as I turned to ask him what he’d done to the poor creatures, I was stunned into silence.
He was smiling.
“Enough talk of death and war.” With a flourish that was typical of him, he shouted, “tonight, we celebrate!”
Snowflakes flew into my open mouth as the five jackalopes turned around and bounded away from the hidden bodies.
“Celebrate?” I asked, not bothering to keep the appall out of my voice. “What on earth are you celebrating?!”
“Zima Day!” he said jubilantly.
"What's Zima Day?"
"It's the reason I brought you here in the first place! …You weren't supposed to see anything of goblins or…" his features darkened a little. But it didn't last long. “Just you wait! I promise you won’t be disappointed. And if you do your part, I won’t be disappointed either!” His eyes shone with anticipation as the sleigh slid to a halt far more gently than the last two trips.
Travel times seemed to be arbitrary in this world.
We had stopped in a snowy glen filled with winter creatures of all types and sizes. Their attention turned to us as Jack stood. He stepped off the sleigh and took my hand, treating me like his escort to a formal function. I took it, not sure what else to do and nervous from everyone’s eyes on me. I stepped down to join him, still feeling a bit queasy at the turn of events.
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No sooner had I stepped onto the snow than music flared to life around us. It reminded me of old German or Welsh folk songs, but played on string and flute instruments I didn't recognize.
Jack pulled me close and flew me through dance moves; some familiar, some new. All my attention suddenly became riveted on following his lead. My feet slid over the snow like the smoothest ice in the world, my shoes biting into it as if ice skates had melded to my feet. The music and rhythm were so fast that it took all my concentration not to trip over my feet (or his).
It felt exhilarating to dance in this place! I could see why he'd brought me here for my dancing ability; even with my Olympic-level agility, I still struggled to keep up, which I’m sure was due in no small part to having had no rehearsal nor preparation. Luckily, any time I made a mistake, a gentle winter wind would nudge my foot or body into the right place. Even still, after one dance I was about dead from exhaustion.
The other creatures didn't let me rest long, though. First, a man made entirely of ice asked me to a dance not unlike the one I'd just flown through with Jack; after him, a four-toed, ten-foot furball asked me to cling to his leg while he did a sort of skipping sidestep; next, a snowman clasped my hand with his wooden one and took me through some spins (snowmen are unsurprisingly not very mobile, so I did most of the dancing there); and so on.
In a euphoric daze, I forgot all about everything except the here and now. I was under a spell, and I didn't want to leave. I danced more and more, my stamina seeming to grow with every dance, instead of diminishing.
Eventually, the dancing slowed. I couldn’t tell how long it’d lasted because the sun was only just past its zenith. Again I was reminded how time seemed to pass differently here. The music softened, and everyone mellowed into conversation. Jack was suddenly beside me.
"You are by far the best partner I've ever brought to our Zima Day celebration," he said softly into my ear. He smiled at me proudly before walking purposefully away from me, into the trees. Curious, I followed. He pushed aside a branch to reveal the valley he'd shown me when I first arrived. I stepped past him to see it better. It must have been over a hundred kilometers, and all of it had turned white with patches of grass, instead of green with patches of snow; all changed within the span of our dance.
My jaw went slack.
"I did this?" I asked in disbelief. He nodded. "How?"
"By bringing our celebration to life!" he said, his face beaming. "I told you you danced with winter unlike anyone before you!"
"But…" I said, our earlier conversation flooding my mind. "Doesn't that mean the goblins have less magic? …They have less life?"
His smile diminished considerably. "...I suppose…But what does that matter? They're barely sentient anyway!" He added the last with a tittering chuckle.
So, he isn’t haughty, I thought. He doesn’t think himself superior, like an admiral facing off a lesser adversary. He sees himself as an exterminator, trying to eradicate an unyielding insect infestation!
My already slack jaw fell to my chest.
"You'd see them all die so quickly?" I said with astonished rage. His eyes widened and he took a half-step back. "They're still living creatures!" I continued, vaguely aware of the thrum starting. "They speak language! They use tools! They're fighting just as much as you to survive in this gottverlassen world! How could you be so heartless!?"
With every word, I sunk a little deeper into the snow. By the time I finished, I was knee deep and my pants were soaked. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the thrum that reached a pitch I'd never experienced before.
No migraine came with it this time.
Jack looked down at me with his face inhumanly contorted again. But he didn't look disgusted or angry as before. Instead he looked confused and sad. Without saying anything, he turned on his heel and let the branch he was holding swing back into place, obscuring him in an instant.
I looked down at my clenched fists. I relaxed, and let them fall limply onto the snow, which now came up to my waist.
I don't know how long I stood there.
The thrum faded to nothing, leaving me feeling hollow.
Eventually I started to extricate myself from the snow's grasp, which felt like quicksand trying to keep me under. Finally, I crawled out of the pit I'd dug for myself. I felt deflated, and I'm sure I looked quite pitiful.
When I stood up, lights flashed from all directions as reporters suddenly surrounded me. Johann smiled beside me.
I stared at him, uncomprehending. The falling snow and gentle breeze made my sodden legs and feet sting with cold. Had it been snowing before?
My head slowly turned away from Johann's increasingly concerned face to the car just ahead of us. With some effort I took step after step toward the car. With every step, reality settled on me more and more, like a wet blanket.
I got into the car. Johann and I sat across from each other and we started for the hotel. I felt numb. My mind played and replayed my experience in Jack's world. Something needed to change with them…living day to day in an endless cycle of battles and parties was such a lächerlich way to live!
"Johann…" I said slowly, lifting my eyes to meet his. I saw some relief on his face upon seeing me finally respond to him. Apparently he'd been asking me questions this whole time, but I only noticed after I said his name. "What would you do if you found out someone–well, more than someone. More like two nations–were in a constant bitter war that was both futile and pointless?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Huh? Adda, we just won silver…and you're thinking about politics?"
I shook my head and looked out the window. There was no way for him to understand.
"Adda," he said softly. I looked into my best friend's concerned face. "Why're you missing a shoe?"
I looked down. Sure enough, that quicksand-snow had eaten one of my shoes. I barked a laugh. It turned into a sob. That sob turned into tears, which turned into outright weeping.
"I don't know, Johann," I said, my voice cracking. "I don't know what to do!"
Why did I feel this way? Why did that magical world mean so much to me? I'd spent mere hours there, and yet I felt like I'd lived there for years. I felt irrevocably a part of their world now… and their murders. I felt complicit!
Warmth slid over my shoulders as Johann put his arm around me and pulled me close. I hadn't noticed him sit next to me, but I leaned into him gratefully. At the touch of his warmth, I finally noticed that my sobs were intermingled with violent shivers.
"Adda, what happened?"
I waited for my crying to diminish before responding.
"I was taken to another world, Johann," I said into his chest. The next words came out in a rush: "I met two groups of people that are at war and have been since before any of them can remember. They don't understand each other and are polar opposites: one controls summer and one controls winter. I wanted them to stop fighting but I couldn’t do anything! Summer and winter don’t have to be enemies! They can exist together, I know it! I don’t know how but they can! Johann, they were killing each other for no good reason and I couldn’t do a thing about it! Oh, I just wish I could forget it all! I don’t want this knowledge if all it brings is pain!" My sobbing came back partway through, and I’m glad I spoke quickly, or else I would’ve known how ridiculous it sounded. But as I sat there with my face soaking Johann’s shirt, I felt the tension that bound my shoulder blades together ease a little.
At least now someone else knows, I thought with bitter relief. The knowledge was easier to bear for some reason, with someone else holding it too.
As I relaxed, the purr of the limo’s engine started lulling me into sleep. Johann started speaking, but his words were muffled; hazy. The vibrations in the car were almost intoxicating, as if my very bones vibrated.
“...so maybe we need to stay in the hotel for a little longer…” Johann’s words became clear at the same moment the vibrations took shape inside me. It hadn’t been the limousine. It was the thrum that felt so comforting. The thrum held no migraine. No discomfort or pain. It only communicated consoling empathy, calming me as if I were a frightened puppy.
In that instant, I knew where the thrum came from. And I knew with equal certainty that I could go back…if I wished.
But what would I even do if I went back? How would I help the goblins and Jack get along? I felt like a broken link in a chain: once useful, but now a hindrance.
“I’m the link,” I whispered.
“What was that?” Johann asked. I sat up and looked him in the eye.
“I’m the link!” I said firmly. The words altered the thrum I felt within my bones.
Invitation, it now said, with an added sense of community and belonging. It wasn’t any creature that spoke to me, as I’d heard from the goblins. It seemed to be a general consciousness of that magical world, its essence reaching out for me to join it. For me to heal it. With this assurance in my mind, I made the decision to try, even if I had no idea how.
A sad smile crept across my face as I looked up into the face of my dancing partner and best friend of more than ten years. Johann's expression mirrored mine, but as I put my hand to his cheek, it changed to puzzlement.
“Goodbye, Johann,” I said quietly. “Thank you. For everything.”
I saw Johann’s confusion grow into concern before I closed my eyes and focused.
I'm coming, I tried to feel, rather than think; accepting the invitation without words or thought, but with the emotions I felt. That acceptance I thrummed transformed into a new combined feeling: The sorrow of leaving someone I loved, mingled with the anticipation of coming home after a long time away. It became a thrum of its own and left me in a soundless call.
It felt as natural as talking.
When I opened my eyes, Johann had disappeared. I sat on a mound of grass, with my arm still outstretched. I looked wistfully at my hand, which moments ago had been holding someone so dear to me. I lowered it slowly, trying to fight the despair rising from my gut to my eyes. I gave a small choke as I placed that same hand on the ground. The pressure behind my eyes finally squeezed out two tears.
“Goodbye,” I repeated softly.
The tears traveled slowly down my cheeks as I looked up at my surroundings.
I found myself surrounded by plain thin trees so close together that I couldn't see past the second row. I exhaled slowly before standing and taking my first few steps into the forest. My socks and shoe, now inexplicably dry, made barely a whisper on the soft grass.
I'd wandered for a few minutes, when I heard a grunt-whine from somewhere in front of me. But I felt it thrum, questioning safety, which I understood as, “are you dangerous?”
I couldn't stop a smile from spreading across my face at the anticipation of using the thrum, instead of cowering before it as I had my entire life.
I thrummed an excited, friendly!
Immediately, a goblin stepped into the open. It looked tense and guarded.
It thrummed a complicated feeling that made me think of going out onto a dance floor without a partner, only to have him join me in the nick of time! It felt like, saved. It must've been asking if I was here to join their fight against Jack.
I shook my head, and the goblin's beady black eyes narrowed.
I clarified quickly with, ceasefire. But I didn’t know what it felt like to be at war, so I didn’t know what it felt like to stop being at war.
The goblin tilted its head, blinked rapidly, and raised its eyebrows. I had no idea what he understood from the thrum I just sent.
I ended up thrumming, friendship.
The goblin considered me for a moment. He gave a turt little grunt and thrummed, suspicion, before turning his head. Without taking his eyes off me, he thrummed, doubt and supplication, into the trees.
The next goblin that emerged was clearly elderly. It walked with a cane, and all the colors from its hair to its skin had turned gray-white. It had sagging skin, long whiskers, and tufts of wiry hairs that made up its eyebrows. When it thrummed, it felt feminine, and I assumed she was some sort of chieftess based on the wrappings on her head.
She thrummed, curiosity and concern with hope, which I understood as, “how and why?" but without the doubt that oozed from the younger goblin.
I tried thrumming, mediation, while pointing to myself. She stared at me blankly, so I thrummed, empathy, instead.
We were both silent for a moment as I struggled to convey the correct emotion to explain my thoughts. Apparently, I could understand the thrum far better than I could speak it.
She thrummed, reservation, but it quickly changed to, scrutiny, as if she were interrogating me. Her bright black eyes held mine unwaveringly, trying to ascertain my intentions by doing something beyond a thrum; almost telepathy.
I didn't dare take my eyes away from hers as they bore into my mind and heart. I thrummed, desire for friendship, as honestly as if I were dumping my life story onto a stranger. At least, it felt about as raw and vulnerable.
“Sehr possible to become friends with winter,” I whispered as I tried to thrum those words into feelings that were familiar to me, such as, warmth in an igloo; redeem; being understood; joy in life; and snowball fights between friends.
We stood for minutes that felt like hours. Sweat started beading on my brow as my thrum swelled from an honest appeal to an uninhibited implore.
Finally, her furrowed eyebrows relaxed with understanding (or acceptance?), and her eyes widened to show bloodshot whites surrounding black irises. She released me from her lie-detector thrum, and slowly, smiled her wrinkly snout. She thrummed her approval of my plan.
My vision had blurred with the fervor of my thrum, and when I felt her reply, my shoulders slumped with relief and I made a giddy sort of chuckle. The chieftess gave her own piggy noises of relief and joy. She reached out a misshapen hoof to me, her smile, if possible, growing wider. I placed my hand inside it. She pulled me gently while thrumming again, acceptance. But she also added, gratitude and hope.
As I followed her slow cane-using pace, her thrum filled the raw wound I’d just exposed to her, filling me with her acceptance, gratitude, and hope. The smile that followed held a stronger surge of intoxicating confidence than the smile I'd had after winning a medal in the Worldwide Olympics.
As we walked, goblins seemed to come right out of the trees themselves to greet us. Some were wary, some exuberant, but all were thrumming to the chieftess for answers. She thrummed, comfort and security, to them all.
We walked together, past the safety of the trees, and toward the vast landscape of grass-dappled snow that spanned all the way up to Jack’s home. As we came up to the snow, I could feel the chieftess’s apprehension grow stronger and stronger. I was walking beside her, and when I looked down, she had a sickly purple color creeping into her cheeks.
I put a hand on her back and thrummed, concern. She gave a wan smile.
Inquisitive and fear, she thrummed back. It was similar to the thrum I’d felt from the first goblin. But her question didn’t pertain to whether or not I was safe, but to the foreboding snow before us.
I took her hoof in my hand, and thrummed, comfort and safety. Her back straightened fractionally, and the color in her cheeks returned to its usual gray.
Determination, she responded with a jerk of her head.
We looked into each others’ eyes and simultaneously thrummed, friendship.
We both stepped onto the snow. I could feel her flinch, but when her foot crunched firmly onto the snow without sinking in, her elation didn’t need to be thrummed. We walked all the way to Jack’s domain on top of the snow; the symbol of goblin death now supporting their leader.
It was long and arduous. So it was no surprise to me that Jack’s sleigh pulled in front of us before we even reached the base of his hill. He was followed by an entire complement of soldiers, some of whom I’d danced with only an hour ago. Jack looked excited as he pulled up to me, but when he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes fell upon our hands, clasped together. He closed his eyes and his mouth downturned into a terse line. When he opened his eyes, they burned with an icy fire.
“What’s the meaning of this?!?!” He demanded. His tone bespoke his contempt for not only the elderly goblin at my side, but for me as well.
The chieftess thrummed friendship.
No one noticed, so I said, “we’ve come to use diplomacy.” I emphasized the word.
Something dangerous flashes across his eyes, and in a moment of weakness, I looked away. All the jackalopes were looking at me with curiosity mingled with fear. All except Turntail, who looked downright outraged. Reflexively, I thrummed, pacify, to him before I even realized I’d done it. He blinked slowly but continued to glare.
“You expect me to lower myself to speak with beasts?” Jack said, causing me to look back up into his venomous face. “Give me one good reason why I should not end you both right now!”
The silence that followed his words was deafening. I opened my mouth to convince him of the possibility of cohabitation, but the murderous gleam in his eyes clamped my mouth shut. Again, I looked away, and my eyes immediately connected with Turntail’s.
Teamwork, I purposefully thrummed to him, trying to use an emotion he’d understand. I could feel the chieftess listening to me. Turntail blinked again, and his already downturned eyebrows furrowed in the middle.
“This human has betrayed us!” Jack yelled to the throng behind him, standing to his full height inside the sleigh. As he spoke, Turntail and I never broke eye contact while I gently thrummed to him.
Freedom.
“She has sided with the goblins!”
Respect.
“And therefore, she is our enemy!”
Peace.
“So it is with dismay…”
Joy.
“…that I take it upon myself to pass judgment!”
Love!
Jack drew his sword and stepped down from the sleigh. Turntail’s eyes were wide, and his eyebrows knit so hard together they looked like one. The chieftess thrummed, panic! as Jack stepped forward and raised his sword.
Turntail shook himself, as if coming out of a daydream.
Jack swung down.
I closed my eyes.
I tried, I thought resignedly. That’s all I came to do: to try. And I’ve done my best! I felt so at peace with that thought that a smile played at the corners of my mouth.
Something crashed into me, toppling me onto my back, and yanking my hand free from the goblin’s. I cried out for her, fearing what would happen if she touched snow without me. When I looked, I was shocked to see her lying on a wispy patch of grass on top of the snow.
“What’re you doing!?!” Jack bellowed. I turned to see Turntail standing in front of Jack, the sword lodged deeply into his antlers. A few shattered antler pieces spackled the snow around him.
Without answering, Turntail twisted his head sharply, yanking the sword from Jack’s grasp. He shook his head a few times to free the sword, but it didn’t budge. He stopped and stared defiantly up at Jack, seeming to me taller than the Icicle King, who loomed at least five feet over him.
Jack’s body vibrated with rage. He lifted a trembling finger at Turntail, but as he drew breath to yell again, another jackalope joined Turntail, standing proudly beside him. Then another, and another. Jack deflated as every single one of his most faithful steed-warriors took positions between their king and a goblin and human. Jack’s pointing hand dropped pathetically to his side, and his mouth hung slack as his wide eyes darted between them.
I got to my feet and saw the chieftess do the same. I went to stand beside her as she looked down at her patch of grass with obvious satisfaction.
“They walk on snow!” Turntail squeaked loudly. “How can they be our enemy when Winter itself upholds their form?” He turned to the surrounding soldiers, “I say we give them a chance! I’ve lost too many kin to this bloody war. Whether you join me or not, I vow to shed no more blood when an armistice can at least be attempted!” He looked back at me and smiled. “This human, Adda, has shown me–has shown us–that such a treaty is possible.”
To my left, the horizon cradled the sun, turning the sky into a blood-red backdrop to the jackalope’s words. The embedded ice-blue sword glinted sunlight as it protruded from his lopsided antlers, symbolizing his buried enmity.
My gratitude shone from my face as I smiled back at him. When I looked down at the goblin’s beaming face, I saw that she had tears shining quietly down her cheeks.
Only then did I notice that I did too.