At Night in the Snow
A Seasonal Story
They were gathered to celebrate Christmas, two hundred of them packed into the large, stately house set back from the road. The hosts had spent a fortune dressing the house up for Christmas and both inside and out were decked in the finest seasonal décor. There was a band playing carols. The guests danced into the night. Garlands hung from the balustrades and wreaths adorned every window. There was cider and eggnog and even figgy pudding.
Some of the guests gathered at one of the windows in the parlor, gazing in fascination at the world outside. Snow was falling now and the temperature was dropping. It was a light snow, but it fell on top of six inches left over from the day before.
“I think it’s marvelous,” said one lady.
“It’ll be dreadful getting home,” said one gentleman.
“The snow will stop in an hour,” said another gentleman. “And it’s only projected to snow an inch. The roads were clear on the way here and they’ll be clear on the way back.”
“Besides,” said another lady, “the Clerendons have said they have space for some of us. Between the guest rooms and the couches, they can fit twenty, and they said they have mattresses upstairs they can bring down and set up in the great hall. I think it’ll be grand. Just like being a little child again and going to a sleepover.”
“Wouldn’t want to be the fellow who gets a couch when someone else gets his own room,” said the gentleman who’d said it would be dreadful getting home.
“Yes, but it beats driving home in that,” said another gentleman, “especially after you’ve had your fill of eggnog.”
“I don’t mind the drive,” said the gentleman who’d said it would only snow an inch.
“To each his own,” said one of the ladies.
Other guests shied away from the window. They preferred not to gaze out on the darkness. They danced in the center of the ballroom, or gathered in the hall.
“My husband says it makes him feel warm and cozy to look out on a dreary landscape,” said one lady.
“It makes me cold just looking at it,” said another. “Let’s move closer to the fire.”
They walked over to the fire in the great hearth. Two other women were warming their hands. They made room for the newcomers.
“Frightful night out there isn’t it,” said one lady.
“Indeed,” said another. “Makes you glad to be in here by the fire.”
Some guests were dancing so hard they were beginning to sweat. Other guests lounged in chairs or chattered in small clusters. A number played at billiards. Outside, the snow picked up. Several guests shivered, even though the temperature was quite warm in the great hall. One young fellow by the window stared intently into the darkness. He seemed very taken with it.
“Lost in thought?” asked an older gentleman who sidled up to him.
“What? Oh, yes. I was just admiring the snow.”
“Wish you were out in it?”
“Yes. Well, no. It’s, well, it’s pretty to look at. That’s all.”
“That it is,” said the older gentleman. And the young fellow turned his gaze back outside, over the broad lawn to the dark wood beyond, a wood which went for miles.
If he had been gifted with the ability to see very far in the dark, the young fellow would have seen a shrouded figure trudging through the snow just beyond the edge of those dark woods. The figure was bent slightly. It had a hood up against the snow. Inside the hood was a face of a man who had only recently passed from youth to middle age. It was difficult to tell how old he was, for his face was lined, but his skin was otherwise smooth. He had dark eyes and his face was in shadow, on a dark night in a dark wood, but even had his face been visible it would have been impossible to tell what he thought. He walked neither slowly nor quickly, proceeding always at the same pace through the snow, lifting his boots and putting them down again, with nothing but the soft crunch of the newly broken trail to mark his passing.
As he passed through the forest, he brushed through pine branches and rustled them so that the snow that lay on the branches slid down onto his tracks, mixing with the snow that fell behind him from the sky. The trees were a thinner here. Just twenty feet deeper into the forest, the woods grew thick enough that very little of the currently falling snow made it all the way down to the forest floor. The walker stayed where the woods were thin enough that he could see the ground before him, and where the branches were few enough that he did not need to fight his way through them.
Little to no brush lay on this edge of the forest, and his progress was steady. He showed no sign of difficulty, though the way was not easy and he had been traveling for some time. He was breathing through his nose, but occasionally he would open his mouth and let forth a great cloud of fog. The air was very cold, but he was so warm from the walking that he was nearly sweating.
His hands stayed deep in the folds of his cloak and except for when he glanced up at the sky, even his nose was barely visible to an outside observer. His cloak was dry, despite the falling snow, for it was a dry snow and not a wet snow, and his boots stayed dry, too. The trousers he wore were lined with the pelt of some animal, which made them waterproof.
It was a dark night to be out alone in the woods, far from population centers. The great house lay some ways outside of town, and there weren’t many neighbors here. The countryside was largely untraveled and there were few roads. The traveler seemed to be avoiding the roads, for whatever reason, for when he’d crossed in front of the drive leading up to the great house, he had only to head down it a quarter mile to reach the road on which the revelers had come.
Any observer who happened to chance upon the lone traveler would have had no reason to know that he had not eaten since that morning, nor that he had been on his feet all day. But he did appear to have some purpose in mind, and to have little reason or desire to stray from his path, or to tarry in any place or other. He appeared to have been walking for quite some time, for he had been.
As he drew near to the corner of the great house, the woods drew back a ways, and he found himself tramping out into the clearing. He stopped where he was still just inside the shadow of a tree and turned to stare at the house. He could see bright lights inside the large windows, and he could see dancers passing before those windows, flitting across the room in pairs. He could see bright candles on the outside of the house, electric ones, and bright electric lights, too. They hung in tasteful waterfalls from the eaves and wrapped the ornate trees lining the front walk. Green and red and blue and silver lights, yellow and orange and violet.
The traveler stood there for a moment, letting himself cool off. His face gave no impression of his thoughts. It had been perhaps an hour, perhaps more, since he had last paused in his journey, and he did not start again right away. He seemed to be watching for something.
His mind wandered. He had lost track of the time he had trudged in the snow, and he no longer noticed the dryness of his face and hands. If he thought about it, he could perceive the chill in the air, but only just. A quietness had descended upon him and he felt neither weary nor energetic. He wasn’t awake enough to be weary and he wasn’t sleepy enough to feel anxious about anything.
Back inside the house, the dancers were swirling back and forth across the hall. Loud laughter and clapping made it difficult to converse, but some still tried. Over by the window, the young fellow continued to stare out at the snow.
“Looking for something?” asked a man with a gray beard at his ear. The young man turned around startled.
“What? Oh, no, just admiring the snow.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“What? Oh, no, not at all.”
The older fellow sidled up alongside him and stared out at the night. There was a lull in their conversation.
“How about you,” asked the young man. “Are you looking for something?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” replied the young man. “You are looking for something? Whatever could you be looking for on a night like this?”
“Someone who used to know me.”
“Out there in the snow? Seems doubtful any man or woman would be out alone in this weather.”
“Yes. It’s not a fit night out. He’s out there, though.”