19. Some Snow
Stellaria landed with a thud. She lay flat on her back for a moment wondering what had happened. Everything was dark around her, beyond the small circle of light that seemed to radiate from her own body, and she could feel something soft but cold tickling her face. She opened her mouth and the cold substance melted into water on her tongue. This must be snow. But no taste of vanilla. She moved her legs, they were all right. She moved her arms, they were all right. “Great, I’m all here,” she said to herself, “but where’s here?”
She got up and ruffled her wings. Nothing broken there either but the wings were heavy with snow that had started to melt on them. She tried to jump up into the air beating her wings but the extra weight pulled her down. She couldn’t fly. Rats. All because of a one stupid rat. She looked around. Things looked pretty dim. She was sure the starlight lantern was strong enough to have withstood the impact, but it must have dropped to some other place. Everything around her was evenly unlit. If the lantern was somewhere near, she would surely see its light.
Stellaria sat on top of a big snowdrift to think about her choices. She had just two: remain here turning slowly into a real snow angel or start walking. Neither option was good. Without the starlight lantern she would never find her way out of this stupid snow globe. Besides, she couldn’t go back without the lantern, even if she knew the way.
Stellaria was stuck in indetermination. Suddenly the snowdrift under her moved. Did snowquakes exist? She jumped up and stared at the snow. Nothing. The snowdrift looked just normal, peacefully asleep. Stellaria sat down again, and again she could feel the snow move. She stood up and this time poked the snow with her foot.
“Ouch!”
All of a sudden the drift began to shake all over and shed snow, and Stellaria stepped back in fright. When the air had cleared, Stellaria saw the heap of snow had grown four legs and a head. With two brown eyes the pile of snow stared right at her. She stared back.
Eventually she said, “Hello, snow.”
“Hello.”
“Great, a pile of walking and talking snow!” Stellaria said.
“No, I’m not snow. I’m a sheep,” the pile replied and shook itself again.
“Oh. What’s your name then?”
“I haven’t got a name.”
“You must have a name.”
“Why?”
“Because - because you have to have a name to be what you are.”
“I am me,” the sheep replied.
“Hasn’t anybody ever called you anything?” Stellaria insisted.
“Yes: a stupid sheep.”
Stellaria saw the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, so she said, “Look, my name is Stellaria and I’ll call you Flammulina. Okay?”
“Why?”
“So that I can call you by some name, you stupid sheep!”
For a moment Stellaria had forgotten her predicament but now she was getting anxious, and bored. She had no intention of getting stuck with this brainless sheep.
“Look, Flammulina, it was nice meeting you but I must get going. Bye bye.”
The sheep didn’t reply so Stellaria turned her back on the sheep and started walking away. She wasn’t sure which way to go, so any direction would do. She had only taken a few steps — it was surprisingly slow to walk in deep snow — when she heard the sheep say:
“Flammulina, what does it mean?”
Stellaria stopped, not because she wanted to be polite but because the walking was already tiring her out. “It means you.”
“I am a sheep.”
“Okay, you’re a sheep.” This animal with a brain-dead brain was driving her crazy. “So what?”
“Nothing.”
Casa Home
|