Snowflake (5 page)

Not long after, Snowflake had an adventure which frightened her.

She was aware that she had been moving faster and faster for a while, almost as quickly as the railway cars pulled by the engine with a great noise and clatter along the tracks nearby.

The banks of the stream narrowed and Snowflake could hear a far-away rushing and roaring, but quite different from the noise made by the train and somehow she knew that it would have to do with her.

Even the surface of the water of which she was a part now became uneasy, forming into little swirls and whirlpools at times and at others hurling itself forward like a wall of molten glass.

Faster and faster it went. Louder and louder grew the roaring. It seemed as though all about Snowflake arose a cry: “Look out, everyone, here we go!”

And then with a rumble like thunder, over she went, into a black abyss, and the next moment, gasping, choking, drowning, she was whipped to a white froth, crushed, torn and churned by the great wooden wheel of a mill.

Splash! she went on to the broad wooden blade of the wheel, blinded and crushed by the weight of the water thundering down upon her from above whence she had come.

Her ears were made deaf by the turmoil of the falls, the rumbling of the huge wheel, the creakings and the groanings that came from all its parts as it trembled beneath the force of the water and slowly turned and the harsh noise of the grindstones clashing within.

She could not even cry for help so shaken was she by what was happening to her. She was sure that she had reached the end of her days and was about to perish.

Then the wheel sank beneath the weight of the water and Snowflake found herself freed again. She fell into a turmoil of foaming white froth and was swept away. A moment later she was again a part of the calm stream, gliding along past newly budded trees.

But back at the mill, behind her, she heard a woman saying to the miller: “What beautiful white flour! I will buy a kilo and bake bread for my husband and my children.”

The mountains on either side of the valley became smaller and less rugged. The stream met another coming from the west, and running beneath the grey arch of a stone bridge that had been built by the legions of Caesar, the two were joined together to make a small river that moved along at a more stately pace. With them went Snowflake.

She was still shaken and trembling because of what had happened to her at the mill wondering what new perils lay before her and whether she would have the courage and the strength to meet them. She even considered whether it might perhaps not be better to be lying quietly and safely in the peaceful snowfields of the mountain peaks that were now all but vanished in the distance.

It was the being alone that was the most discouraging. True, she was surrounded on all sides by others like herself, but this, she found, made for one’s being even lonelier, for they were all busy with themselves and nowhere did she hear a friendly voice nor did anyone seem to care about her or what happened to her.

Until one bright warm day, all this was changed.

The river had become both wider and deeper. Sometimes Snowflake was in the cool green depths admiring the movements of the long, swift pike, the eager perch, the lazy, graceful trout. At others she was swept along the surface past trees, houses and villages that were becoming more like towns.

It was during one of the latter that she heard a voice beside her say:

“Hello. You’re a snowflake, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Snowflake.

“I think you’re beautiful,” said the voice.

Snowflake was astonished and pleased. It was the first time that anyone had noticed her or spoken to her directly.

“Do you really?” she said. “That is very kind. But who are you?”—and she looked all about her to see who it could have been who had spoken.

“Here I am,” said the voice right beside her. “I am a Raindrop.”

Snowflake looked then in the direction whence the voice came, and saw him. And sure enough it was a Raindrop.

He was large, strong and handsome in a pear-shaped way, and Snowflake thought that he too was beautiful as he floated along next to her, sparkling in the sunshine and reflecting the colour of the sky.

How good it was to have someone to talk to! She asked: “Where did you come from?”

“Out of the sky, like yourself,” Raindrop replied. “I was born in a cloud many months ago, but did not fall until only a few days ago. I followed you down the mountain. But I didn’t dare speak to you before.”

“No?” Snowflake asked. “Why?”

“Because you are so beautiful.”

Snowflake thought this a strange reason for not speaking to someone, but not wishing to be impolite, did not say so. And besides it pleased her to have him say it again.

Now Raindrop spoke more shyly. “I say,” he said, “but you were brave in that mill-race. I was sure we were done for. But I was watching you and it gave me courage.”

A most delicious feeling stole over Snowflake. Someone had thought her brave when she was sure she had been more frightened than anyone . . .

Snowflake said to Raindrop: “Tell me about your being born. What was it like?”

“It happened over Iceland, I think,” Raindrop replied. “It seemed as though I woke up one morning, and there I was part of a cloud that contained many other raindrops like myself.”

He continued: “We travelled for a long time pulled or pushed by the wind, here, there and everywhere. When we looked down from the sky, all we could see was snow and ice. Sometimes we saw heavy clouds beneath us and the snowflakes falling, but we remained high up because it was not yet our time.”

“Why was it not yet your time?” Snowflake asked.

“I do not know,” replied Raindrop. “Who can say? Then one day we met a current of warm air and we began to fall.”

Snowflake remembered her own descent. And this led her once more to remember Him. She asked: “Who made us? Why did we fall? Why were we sent here? Did you ever feel as though some One loved you very much and was watching over you?”

Raindrop replied: “I do not know. I only know that since I first saw you I have not been able to think of anything else, only you. Will you come with me, Snowflake?”

Again, the warm, happy feeling came over Snowflake. It was good to have someone near her who cared about her.

She replied to Raindrop: “How kind you are! Will you wait? I cannot give you my answer yet.”

“I will wait,” Raindrop replied.

The land was changing all about them. The high jagged mountains had disappeared and in their place were low, rolling hills and meadows covered with flowers. Towns along the banks became more frequent. Sometimes the river flowed straight as an arrow, others it would wind and twist like a serpent. And no one could tell what lay ahead.

Yet all of the time Snowflake felt secure and comforted because Raindrop was near her and never strayed from her side. One day, Snowflake felt that she was certain.

She cried: “Raindrop . . .”

“Yes, dear Snowflake?”

“You have been patient and good to me. I will give you your answer. Yes, I will come with you if you still want me.”

For a time then, Snowflake and Raindrop glided along silently side by side down the blue and golden path made by the reflection of the setting sun in the sky.