Prelude

Prelude

The moon shined down on the streets. It illuminated everything, especially the snow, which covered every available piece of what was otherwise grass. The white and yellow streetlights seemed dull and purposeless in comparison, though it made no difference. The distant houses seemed unusually close and the further ones seemed even closer. The night passed on, light snow covering the ground, disguising everything, except for a single man.

He stood beneath a large, trimmed pine tree. The branches were a meter above his head, but lowering as they took on more and more snow. He leaned against the tree, resting his head against its bark. It wasn't very comfortable, but he hardly noticed it. He was exhausted. Had there been any passerby they would have wondered about his intentions, being there the way he was at that time of night, but there were none. Not a single other, but one.

In the man's arms rested a child, faint and sleepy. She must have been a year old or less. Her head was pressed against the man's shoulder, the only part of her body which wasn't covered by some sort of blanket. Thanks to her father, she was completely oblivious to the snow and cold around her. Her eyes closed quickly and her head fell calmly, taken in by the warmth into a sweet and easy slumber. The night was quiet, but for the rustling of the pine overhead. The snow was falling ceaselessly, but it didn't appear as if it would quicken. The branches of the pine grew even heavier yet.

The father shivered a little, his teeth chattering for but a moment. He took in a deep, cold breath and let it out. A large cloud of vapors extruded shakily from his lips and he began to cough. Quickly he covered his mouth, holding the child close to his chest and silencing himself. He curled himself up against the bark of the tree, bending over to cough into his elbow. The man coughed for a few moments before finally stopping. When he did he leaned his head once more against the bark of the tree, breathing out in exhaustion. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Suddenly, the pine branches above gave way and the snow tumbled down atop the man and child. The man saw it coming, but was too late to escape it. He ran away from the branches, but in vain, as the snow quickly heaped down on him, freezing him to the bone and awakening his child. Instantly, she began to cry loudly into the open air. Her father had the urge to cover her mouth, but the sense not to. Instead, he brushed off the snow on her head and blanket and rocked her back and forth in an attempt to put her back to sleep. It was a considerate thing to do, but again in vain, as it became apparent to the man that the child would not be falling asleep for a great deal longer. She was much too cold.

The man sighed. The baby still cried softly.

"I just don't know what to do with you," he smiled wearily.

He looked around on the street, yet nothing stirred. The houses were lit up festively, something he was very familiar with around this time of year. Most families had made at least one snowman in their yard and every house was outlined in a fantastic display of lights, the colors of which had no limit in range. The man felt that he should get the child somewhere warmer, but knew better. He had to stay where he was. He had to be patient. His eyes surveyed the street and houses once more and his mind grew doubtful. Perhaps he was making a mistake. Maybe he would fail anyways.

The child grew warmer and, to the man's surprise, stopped crying. The man sighed again, relieved.

He smiled at her. "See? Not so bad… just a little snow." He put the child closer to his chest, looking over the streets and houses again. "We'll be alright…"

Again, had a passerby been present they would have questioned the man as to why he was standing where he was, in the way he was with a child, but there were none. If there had been, the man would have had no answer. The best he would have been able to give them would be a shrug, smile, and a small comment; something like, "I'm waiting for something good."

Undoubtedly, the answer would not be received well. Surely the passerby would think him mad or desperate and chalk him off as some lunatic or idiot. The sight of a child in his arms might even prompt them to call in the proper authorities for the job. That is, the job that would, without question, separate him and his daughter from one another forever. That was something he would never allow. But, as it stood, the streets were empty and the night was old. Soon the sun would be up and he would have his chance, if a chance he really did have at all.

His destination was the Hemisturn Central Express, the train that would mask his escape. His chances were maybe decent, but only at best, limited there by the daunting number of security patrols who were not easily seen. They would not be dressed in uniform or patrolling publicly. They would blend into the crowd and make their way through it. If he were caught, they would detain him without his even knowing what had happened. His daughter would be out of his arms in a second's time and he would be unconscious on the ground. All they would have to do is flash a badge and nobody would dare think of stopping them. "Official business," they would say as they took away his crying child. "Be on your way."

The man clenched his jaw as he thought of what he had to do. Worry and hope creased the lines on his face, which had grown from few to many in his last few months in Hemisturn. The opportunity was there, however small, and he would take it. Besides, he wasn't completely alone. He had made some arrangements himself and some friends had been put in place to assist him. With any luck, if he made a mistake, they would not. Still, the man thought of his child and worried. His skill and diligence would near determine all of what would become of her. If he failed, she would be reduced so lowly, he dared not to think of it. If he succeeded, her life would be difficult, but there would be hope. If he could just make it to the train, if he could just get her out, then maybe he could prepare her for what would lie ahead. Her fate was a grand one, the man knew. He had seen it in his dreams. Felt the warmth of it in his chest when all else was dull. With any lucky, and the help of those who were to aid him, they would make it out. They could still have a future together, if only for a little while.

The man could see the sun begin to fold over the horizon. Its rays slipped through the crack between the clouds and distant trees. The sky grew red and restless while the snow fell heavily upon the man and child. In the distance and to the west of the horizon stood Hemisturn. The sun's rays hit the top of the city, illuminating many of the buildings therein. They were old, most of them. A monstrous black building stood there against the clouds, taller than the rest and looming over all. The man furrowed his brows, setting his gaze upon it. It made him feel afraid, but not just that. It made him angry and beyond any other emotion. Quickly, the man redirected his eyes to the right of it and set his gaze anew upon a large bell tower.

The man took a few moments to look at the bell tower. It was old, but it was not weak. In fact, it was in better shape than it had been for many years. He grinned, an old sense of adventure coming across him, despite the scale at which he was gambling his life, and that of his daughter's. The sun lifted and radiated his face. He looked down to his child, who was fast asleep, somehow.

"However this turns out," he whispered assuredly, "you will be safe."