Snowflake (8 page)

Stifling black smoke filled the air. The heart of the fire glowed red and evil. Bright blades of yellow flames leaped like sword strokes to destroy all in their path. Water was turned to steam and with it the blaze hissed its defiance.

Gasping for life, all but seared by the blast from the raging furnace, Snowflake was near to giving way to despair and defeat. Who could prevail against an enemy so savage and so strong? Another second and she felt she must shrivel, boil and turn to vapour. And yet she did not surrender.

She recalled what Raindrop had said: “Give all your strength, all your heart and soul. We must win!”

And in that moment she thought of the One from whom her heart and soul had come, and she cried out to him: “Help us. Remember, when I was a child you loved me . . . If you must, take me, but spare Raindrop and my children.”

Then having done so, she bent all her will and tried with might and main to fight against the enemy.

In that instant, Snowflake and all those who were rallied beside her in the fight against the red destroyer struck at the glowing heart of the living flame and vanquished it.

There was the sound of drenching, frothing and hissing. With a mortal shriek and emitting clouds of steam and smoke, the wounded fire made a final effort to survive. One last darting orange spear of flame was cast to try to snatch victory from defeat. It was drowned beneath the tons of water that followed upon Snowflake’s gallant and victorious assault. The fire fell back dying.

At a window which a moment before had been all but engulfed by flames, there appeared a fireman carrying in his arms an infant, sleeping and unharmed.

A great cheer went up from the crowds in the street below as he handed him over to a companion who carefully carried him still sleeping down the ladder to safety and his mother who awaited him there.

This was the last that Snowflake saw, for just then her mind swam, her eyes became clouded and of the hour of her greatest triumph she could remember no more.

When, much later, she returned to her senses, it was to find herself trickling down the side of the blackened building, all soiled and dirtied from the soot and cinders.

She was so weak she could hardly stir and once she thought she must meet her end there on the side of the house from the heat still rising from the glowing embers beneath.

At that instant, with a surge of joy, Snowflake saw Raindrop and the children flowing down a charred beam nearby and forgetting about herself in the happiness of finding them she felt her strength return.

She called to them; they saw her; their paths down the side of the ruined buiding converged and soon they were united again. And in the immediate excitement of the moment, Snowflake was only just aware that Raindrop was not like the strong, gay person he had been. He appeared to be thin and tired from the ordeal through which they had passed.

Snowflake now swiftly counted her brood and checked them for injury. But apart from being dirty and blackened like the rest, they were unharmed. Together once more, they dripped down the side of the house and into the stream of water running off into the gutter.

Down the littered gutter they ran over bits of burned wood, blackened cloth and charred paper, until they reached a large drain like an open mouth at the end of the street.

Then came a period of falling through darkness, of landing with a splash in a foul stream that flowed sluggishly through ill-smelling underground tunnels of brick, dimly lit by occasional gleams from above. Refuse floated on the brackish surface. Huge rats scurried and scrabbled along the side of the brick walls of the sewer.

But in the end there was an emerging towards the open air and the sunlight again, a twist, a turn, a gushing from the sewer mouth and there they were back once more in their broad, beloved river, safe and united.

Yet, it was no longer as it had been before. The hills, the fruitful vineyards and the ancient castles were gone and had been replaced by low pastureland where black and white cows grazed under trees. But Snowflake knew that other changes had taken place as well. They had been through fire. They were all older and wiser, and some of the careless gaiety was gone out of them and their lives.

But the greatest change, Snowflake was sad to see and which filled her with foreboding, had taken place in Raindrop.

The strain of the heroic struggle against the fire had left him altered. His pear-shaped figure was no longer as smooth and robust as it had been and he never seemed to recover his former gay and joyous spirit. He looked worn and older and was apt to have long periods when he was moody and silent.

Yet always he was loving and kind to Snowflake and the children. When his eyes rested upon Snowflake they were filled with such tenderness that her own heart was swelled nearly to bursting. How dear and good he had always been to her.

One morning, as they drifted slowly on the bosom of the broad, placid river passing through flat meadows where many windmills, stirred by the just-awakened breeze, revolved slowly against the pale sky, Snowflake became aware that Raindrop was no longer with her.

The night before he had still been at her side. Now he was gone. With a feeling of sadness that was too deep even for tears, Snowflake knew it was forever.

How could this be? Snowflake asked herself. One moment he had been a part of her, his heartbeat close to hers, the next he had vanished and she was alone.

Why had he been given to her, if only to be taken?

Who had called him away in the night so swiftly that he had not had time even to say “Farewell” . . . ?

The questions that tormented her brought back to her thoughts of the mysteries of her childhood and she asked the One who had made her in the long ago: “Was it You who called him? Shall I ever see him again?”

There was no reply but the wind rustling the sails of the. windmills. Snowflake cried to herself softly: “How can I bear it without him?”

The children crowded around her to comfort her. They put their arms about her and said: “Don’t cry. We will never leave you . . .”

Snowflake looked at them, smiling through her grief, and wondered. For they were no longer children. They had grown up. Snowdrop and Snowcrystal were like herself, but Rainflake and Raindrop-Minor resembled their father, pear-shaped and full of life and vigour. They were always floating off and getting into mischief, exploring swirl and eddy, splashing against every bit of driftwood, leaf or twig they met in the river.

She comforted herself that they would stay with her as they had promised. Now that Raindrop was gone they were all she had. And to take her mind off grieving for him, she made plans for them.

Snowdrop, who was the most beautiful, might be destined to water a rose in a garden, there to glisten like a diamond on the velvet petal. Snowcrystal loved the gleaming salmon and trout flashing in the depths. She would spend her life with them.

Rainflake, who was adventurous, might some day help to drive a great steam engine. Raindrop-Minor liked to dream. He would be happiest in some placid pond where yellow ducklings swam away the long, lazy summer days.

Thus Snowflake mused as slowly they neared the mouth of the great river.

Time and the river flowed on. The broad stream grew muddy and sluggish as it came to the end of its course through soft meadow and marshland. Clay stirred up from the shallow bottom turned the clear sparkling blue of the waters to dull brown. It was like a soiled and tired traveller after a long trip and Snowflake and her children took on this new colour as well.