Illustration by Allyson “Aven” Rivas
The day was over, but the forest wasn’t alone yet.
They don’t have company often, but the trees looked on fondly as three boys passed them by, kicking up snow with every step. Their necks were tilted down as gloved fingers carefully sifted through the freshly fallen blankets. Stars peppered the sky like burning snowflakes, and streaks of aurora swayed through the clouds. They had been out in the clearing almost the whole day. Now, it was clear that the children were looking for something.
One was wearing a red hat with flaps falling over his ears. There was a small golden jingle bell at the end of both knitted flaps, and he lost one when the sled came down. Rows of pine and spruce swayed with glacial gusts of wind as they watched the little gleaming ornament roll into the snow beneath them. The trees shook their wooden limbs in warning, letting pine cones and crisp leaves spill to the frosty ground.
Long after, the boy in the red hat reached to cup his cold ears and noticed that a bell was missing. Combing through crisp snow, the voices of the boys hushed as they listened for the bell’s soft metallic song in the cold. One of the trees let a few of its cones fall, jostling the little bell while its small chimes were soaked in snow. Before long, with the help of the frigid wind, the trees played a game of their own as the bell was pushed back and forth between them by raised roots and low-hanging branches.
The boy wearing blue gloves was the first to abandon the search. He flopped onto the slush, bemoaning his sore legs and the dark sky. He slowly rose to his feet and set off, ushering his friends to follow while dragging the sled behind him. He hadn’t gotten very far when he suddenly felt a soft burst of cold hit his cheek. Snowflakes scattered across the side of his face and melted on his skin just as fast as they had landed.
The boy turned swiftly on his heels and was met by raucous laughter and a finger pointing at the boy in the red hat. The sled was dropped to the snow as the boy wearing blue gloves made quick work of gathering snow for his counterattack. It was a rush of excitement for the forest, watching the children shake with laughter during the ensuing battle. After a while, when the boys were all struggling to catch their breath and scrape up more snow, the three agreed to end with a tie and go home.
Just before they left the forest behind, the boy wearing blue gloves lingered behind a few steps, and slyly stooped down to mold one last snowball from the trampled mess of slush beneath his feet. He shouted something, causing the boy in the red hat to turn around, before he stretched his arm over his head and sent the snowball flying. It missed, flying past the boy’s damp hat and careening toward the pine tree that stood behind him.
The pine’s skinny branches trembled. It tickled a bit when the ball hit the cool bark. The firm snow crumbled on impact, giving way to a muffled tinkling noise.
“Wait,” the boy in the green scarf paused. “Did you hear that?”
“It’s getting late, let’s go.”
The boy in the red hat began to lead the way.
“What about your bell?” the boy in the blue gloves asked. The three stalled for a moment, as if waiting for something. Their eyes scanned over their sparkling footprints in the snow.
“The trees can keep it,” the boy in the red hat smiled breathlessly as he shrugged.
