Winter's Heir

Roasting chestnuts and crisp evergreen wafted through the crowded house, tickling the noses of the taller men who stood in the parlor smoking long pipes and comparing the year they had apart. Pots, pans, and laughter clattered from the kitchen as the women put the finishing touches on a large, perfectly cooked bird, dusted flour off onto their aprons as they rolled cookies, and scolded each other for dirtying their best dresses. Overdressed children wove through their legs as they chased a scared furry animal who only wanted to find a safe place to hide from the jolly chaos.

Tucked between the roaring fire framed in dark brick, and a green Sprula heavily covered in lace, handmade ornaments, and shimmery strings, sat a woman in a wicker rocking chair. Too old to socialize with the family, she slowly rocked in her corner under a half-finished quilt, the needle and thread almost slipping from her wrinkled fingers as she drifted in and out of sleep. Silver hair was bound tightly in a bun on the top of her head, pulling the wrinkles on her face almost painfully.

Shattering glass broke through the hustle and bustle, bringing the house to a stand still.

"Damn it Gregory, how many times have I told you not to touch the pictures!" A man yells out at a small yellow haired boy.

"Please father..." His small hands clutched a very worn out sketch of a beautiful, light haired woman with soft, perpetually happy grey eyes. The simple, dark wood frame still had the last shards of glass clinging to the corners. He ducked under the long dining room table to avoid his father's falling hand, but wasn't watching where he was going and bumped into the rocker when he came out. The old woman let out a small "oof" as she shook awake, the boy and his father both froze at the sound. The boy looked up at her with his small blue eyes full of tears that had yet to fall. "Please Grandmother, I didn't mean to break it, I just wanted to see her better, she is so beautiful and..." he stopped as his voice cracked and the tears began to slide down his cheek.

The old woman leaned forward, wiping his tears with her weathered thumb before taking the picture from his hands. Looking down at the beautiful woman filled her with feelings and memories of a time long gone, and a smile stretched across her face.

"It's quite alright Gregory. Would you like to know who she was?" He nodded as he tried to clear his sniffles and wipe his nose on his little jacket sleeve. She lifted him up onto her lap, making sure he was settled before raising her voice so all could hear. "Gather round children, I have a story to tell you of how our family came to be."

Movement erupted as chairs and boxes and whatever else they could find were dragged across the solid wood floor, everyone scrambling for the best place to hear the woman speak. Even the older men acted like children, shoving each other aside for the seat with the best view. It had been a long time since Grandmother had a story to tell, and her tales of the older days never disappointed.

"This is a story of hate, greed, fear, anger, jealousy... but with all of the bad that your story has in it, this is Da'nu and in Da'nu there is love... and as we all know, love always wins."