Winterdream

by Chantal Gadoury

  “Nothing compares to you, I’m afraid,” the Nutcracker retorted, taking a swing again. “And those clothes, they do nothing for you.”

  The mouse growled as the Nutcracker moved quickly; their swords clanged as their feet moved in tandem, almost like a dance.

  “I’ll chop you up into firewood and feed your broken parts to the fire,” the Mouse King taunted. “Then you’ll be of no further use to your foolish master.”

  Another swing. Another clash. The Nutcracker grunted as he tried to get better footing. The captain of the toy soldiers began to lead his men away from the pair, tackling the mice that had scrambled back toward the Christmas presents. Some of the mice had taken position atop the gifts, aiming their bows high as arrows flew through the air.

  The Mouse King was unrelenting, hitting his sword harder and harder against the sword of the Nutcracker. I could see by the grimace on his face that my Nutcracker was becoming tired. How much longer would this go on for? I knew I had to do something.

  “Mousey!” I shouted from behind the leg of the table. “Over here!”

  His yellow eyes turned in my direction, momentarily distracted by the outburst. That was all I needed. It bought my nutcracker an ounce of energy he might not have had a moment before.

  “A girl!” The Mouse King cackled. “Oh, this is rich!”

  Turning his dark, twitching nose back to the Nutcracker, he chuckled, “Is that who your master sent to save you? All the better… I’ll have an audience to watch your demise!”

  “No!” I shouted louder. The Nutcracker stayed in position, keeping the Mouse King’s sword away with his own.

  “Stop!” I cried out, but the both of them ignored me.

  “The little girl is crying for you, Nutcracker,” the mouse taunted.

  Another clash of their swords rang through the air. My Nutcracker grunted and hissed as his foot slid on the wooden floor. I watched with horror as he sank to his knees, keeping his sword above his head.

  “Such a pathetic, useless—”

  I couldn’t bear another moment of watching this torture go on.

  Without another thought, I pushed myself from my hiding place, sword in hand. I had recalled pretend swordplay, the days of my youth when I had spent countless hours parrying attacks from Fritz. We used sticks then, very unlike swords, but I had hoped it would be enough to save Nutcracker—and myself. But I had to be quick. If I was not, it would mean his doom.

  Just as the Mouse King’s sword began to descend over the Nutcracker’s head, my sword clashed against his. The brute force behind the blow nearly took my breath away. I hadn’t been ready for the weight of the steel weapon.

  “Clara!” the Nutcracker bellowed as I gasped. The Mouse King lifted his sword again with a breathy cackle and slammed it against mine. The silver sword in my hand broke in half, shattering at the hilt. I stared at it in horror.

  “You shouldn’t have girls fight your battles for you, Nutcracker,” the Mouse King taunted. With another large swing of his arm, the Mouse King shoved me out of their way, sending me into the side of a gift box. Their two swords clashed once again.

  “Now you’re mine, Nutcracker,” the Mouse King growled.

  He would regret doing that.

  Pushing myself up, I tugged my slipper from my foot and took off toward my Nutcracker and the large mouse. There had only been one time in my life I had ever been good at throwing things; Fritz and I had been a part of a large snowball fight in our front lawn with a group of other children from his school. Just as a boy had thrown a snowball into Fritz’s face, I threw my own into theirs. The boy’s feet sailed over his head, causing him to land back into the snow. Perhaps, if I used just the right amount of force, I could save the Nutcracker once and for all. My slipper certainly wasn’t a hardened snowball, but it would have to do.

  I positioned myself a few feet away, then I paused and lifted the shoe back. Holding my breath, I released the slipper with a prayer and all my might. It sailed through the air and knocked the Mouse King square in the nose. He squeaked loud enough to cause the battle around us to pause, everyone turning to see what happened. I ran toward the Nutcracker just as he slid his sword into the mouse’s side. An alarming screech filled the air. I tugged on the Nutcracker’s arm as he pulled his sword away.

  The soldiers and lower-ranking mice kept on with their sword fighting and war cries.

  “Come! Come! We must leave… now!” I beckoned quickly.

  I didn’t know where we’d go, or how we’d hide, but I knew I had to get him away before the Mouse King truly did anything to hurt him. The Nutcracker glanced up at me, his blue eyes wide with alarm and shock. Perhaps there was even gratitude somewhere in his deep gaze. He stood and took my hand in his. With a silent nod, he gestured with his sword toward a crevasse in the wall. I nodded in understanding and followed as he began to run.

  “Retreat!” he called behind his shoulder; a call to all the toy soldiers who were still fighting the scattering mice. “Retreat now!”

  “You’ll never get away!” the Mouse King called after us as he held onto his bloody side. “I’ll find you! I’ll find you and kill you, Nutcracker!”

  As I looked over my shoulder, I didn’t see any of the soldiers cease their sword fighting. Instead, they seemed to continue on. The only figure I could not place was the Mouse King. He had seemingly disappeared.

  “Come, Clara,” the Nutcracker murmured softly, jostling my gaze back to what was ahead of us.

  The wall was coming closer and closer with each step we ran. Where would the crevasse take us? Would we be left to face other than the freezing cold of the snow outdoors?

  “But—” I couldn’t form the words as he tugged me along faster.

  “Trust me,” he beckoned. “Trust me!”

  I knew I had no choice but to trust him. We had fought a battle together. I knew I could trust him with my life. After all, as a nutcracker, he was there to protect me. I closed my eyes as the wall approached ever faster. I tried to brace myself for the cold rush I’d feel as soon as my skin met the frigid air. But when the cold sting never came, I opened my eyes to find we were instead surrounded by a deep, thick darkness.

  “W-Where are we?” My voice echoed sharply off of walls we couldn’t see. It was like being inside of a cavern, with no way up or down. I couldn’t see a thing.

  As I looked back over my shoulder, I could only see the barest hint of the crag we had slipped through. Home.

  Here, there was no shouting or fighting, no scurrying mice or marching soldiers. We were faced with a pristine silence, which I found comforting after all that had occurred. In front of me, I could feel Nutcracker’s presence.

  “Where are we going?” I asked again, curious to see what waited at the end for us.

  “Winter Dream,” he murmured softly.

  “Winter Dream?” I had heard that name before.

  Had I not dreamt about it long ago? A dream now that I could recall in every detail as bright as the first night I had seen it. A snowy wood made of sugar, the fresh scent of cookies just out of the oven, and a boy. A boy so lovely, so warm and welcoming, I had felt the keen sting of my heart breaking upon waking from the dream.

  Winter Dream, I thought again.

  “Yes,” he said with a reaffirming nod. “My home.”

  ACT II

  A World Made of Sugar & Sweets

  Chapter 8

  As we emerged from the deep darkness, we were suddenly surrounded by a strange, but enchanting snow-covered forest. At first glance, the snow hanging on the low branches looked normal; but then I realized the snow was more like frosting. Icicles made of icing. Even the bark of the tall, foreboding trees had layers of what appeared to be powdered sugar. My tongue tingled with the idea of tasting one, but I did not dare—lest I embarrass myself before my Nutcracker.

  I tried to look elsewhere for a distraction. It was evening, and the sky above us was a blanket full of sparkling silver stars. The air was crisp with
sweetness. It reminded me of our kitchen just one day ago. The chef had been busy with the help baking cookies and cakes; all confections of every sort to delight Papa’s guests. It was a warm and familiar smell that made goose pimples rise on my flesh. I inhaled the scent deeply and curled my toes into the snow. With each step of my exposed foot, the snow merely felt like cool grass on a warm summer’s day. I was not cold, and there seemed to be no promise of a bitter winter wind swirling about.

  With curious eyes, I looked to my Nutcracker for an explanation. But he remained silent as we walked together through the snowy forest.

  “Are we safe now?” I asked, breaking the silence between us.

  He paused, turning to gaze at me as he released my hand from his grasp. I forgot he had been holding it and missed the security he gave me immediately when he let it go.

  “Yes, Clara,” he murmured. “We’re safe now.”

  It was the first time since seeing him come to life that I could take in all of his new features. His white hair was tousled in places from the battle and slicked back in others. A small wound adorned his cheek—a scratch that resembled claw marks from a mouse. It nearly matched my own. And his eyes . . . they were so strangely familiar to me. He was a young man caught between flesh and doll. He could have been human, but his other features—his nutcracker qualities—made him almost surreal.

  “Thank you for saving me,” he said, clearing his throat. “With your sword and with your slipper…” His blue gaze trailed down to my feet. My cheeks began to warm, wishing suddenly that I could hide my bare foot from his view. “You were very brave, Clara.”

  “I wanted to help,” I replied softly, brushing a loose strand of my brown hair away from my face.

  “And you did,” he said with a reaffirming nod. I pressed my fingertips to my wound on my cheek, relieved to find it was no longer bleeding.

  “Why does he want to harm you so? It doesn’t make sense… The story, what happened so long ago? Why hold such a grudge?” My words drifted into silence as he slowly contemplated the question.

  “The Mouse King has never liked that I broke his spell. You can imagine his immense displeasure, I’m sure.”

  I nodded vigorously.

  “I suppose it has never been enough that I received my own curse in return. And why not? I bested him. It’s no wonder he wishes me dead.”

  “And so he found you tonight? He found you in my parlor? H-How?”

  The Nutcracker remained silent as he pressed his lips together. I could see in the haze of confusion in his blue eyes, as though he were searching for the right answer to give me. There was something he was not saying to me.

  “It was because of Uncle Drosselmeyer, wasn’t it?”

  The way the Nutcracker looked away told me this was true. His gaze was apologetic as it met mine. His smooth, wooden hand reached out to take my own again.

  “But I don’t understand. I—”

  The Nutcracker exhaled slowly as he pulled me closer, “Clara, there is so much to explain. And I will, if you allow me the chance to tell you everything. But first, let us go to the kingdom of Winter Dream. With some rest and warmer clothes—”

  “What about my mama and papa? What about Christmas? What about …?” Lord Yakov. I would not dare say his name, not now. He was a nightmare separate from the Mouse King, though I’m sure the two would make each other good company.

  The Nutcracker did not respond. Instead, he tilted his chin toward the snowy path ahead of us.

  “The castle isn’t too far away. If we hurry through the Sugarland Forest, we’ll reach the border of the kingdom just before dawn.”

  “Sugarland?”

  “Yes. This is the Sugarland Forest.” The Nutcracker glanced around and smiled gently.

  “But you said Winter Dream is your home.”

  “And it is,” he replied. “This is Winter Dream.”

  “Are there are just other lands that make up Winter Dream?”

  The Nutcracker chuckled as he nodded. “Yes, there are other lands, such as Flora Fallal and the Isle of Ice. They lie on the other side of the forest, to the east and west. But I reside in the castle of Winter Dream. The capital, if you will, which is to the north.”

  “Goodness, you must be very important then to live in the capital.”

  Nutcracker only smiled.

  “Shall we continue?” he asked, gesturing toward the snow-covered path before us. I wrinkled my nose at the idea of walking through the strange snow with only one slipper. The Nutcracker must have seen it, for he turned and knelt.

  “You may climb onto my back. I can carry you to the castle, Clara.”

  I knew my face would be as bright as a red gumdrop. How spoiled he must think me. I was sure my manners were better than that, and yet, here he was, offering to carry me. I scolded myself mentally for being so childish.

  He turned to look over his shoulder, a small grin growing on his lips. “Unless you’d prefer to walk…”

  I was too exhausted to deny his help. I slid my hand onto his broad shoulders and waited.

  “Move your legs to either side of me,” he said with a hint of amusement. “I can’t carry you unless I can support you completely.”

  My legs?

  “But—”

  “There are no rules of etiquette that you must follow here,” he explained. “But if it would ease your nerves, I will not cast an unsavory look upon your legs.”

  His words did bring a sense of comfort, and I could not help but laugh at his emphatic proclamation. After a moment, I lifted the hem of my nightgown, making it easier to wrap my legs around his hips. His hands slid under my thighs, the bunched fabric of my chemise between his palms and my skin, and held me in place as he rose to his feet. I tightened my grip around his shoulders and neck. The feel of his hands on my legs made my heart beat faster; our close proximity seemingly thrilling.

  “I won’t let you fall,” he said softly.

  “I know,” I admitted, resting my chin against his shoulder. His unkempt hair brushed against my ear and cheek as he walked. The white curls were soft, almost as silky as the tufts he once had.

  My eyes suddenly began to fill with silent tears; such a sweet, yet sad feeling twisted in my gut as I tightened my grip around him. I had spent many days of my childhood thinking of my long-ago dream with the boy and the magical snow. It had fueled my desire to travel, to see the world. And here he was—the boy. . . He had to be the same one I had met all those years ago.

  “Home. Home to Winter Dream.”

  There was a deep silence between us now as he trekked onward, the sound of the icing-like snow crunching underneath his boots. As I glanced all around, there was something about the forest that seemed so oddly familiar—as if I had been there before. It only made me more certain that my dream had been real; he had been real. In these dazzling, snow-covered woods, something felt comforting and easy, just as it had so many nights ago. Though it seemed many of those beautiful pine trees had begun to die, their long twisting branches turned black with decay.

  “Nutcracker?” I finally broke the silence.

  “Hmm?” he answered softly. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to rediscover the dream. The lurking shadow I knew now belonged to the Mouse King.

  “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?” I asked, allowing the words to roll from my lips.

  He was silent as I felt his head nod beside mine.

  “Yes, there was a time that you came here—to our land.”

  “It was snowing,” I recalled softly. I could almost see it as clearly as though it were happening before my eyes. The snowflakes had been large and the air had smelled of freshly baked cookies; just as it did now.

  “The stars above shone brilliantly, almost as if they were dancing,” he added. Perhaps they had been dancing then.

  “Much has changed since you were last here, Clara,” he continued. “The Mouse King has been determined to take all of Winter Dream for himself. Many of the subjects of the Sugar
land Forest and the other lands do their best to stay out of sight, in fear of him and his mice.”

  “Why can’t you just defeat the Mouse King? Surely you can put an end to that horrible rodent?”

  “If it were only so easy,” the Nutcracker said, and I felt his chest rise and fall with a sigh under my palm. He continued, pushing through the piles of snow.

  “Was the Mouse King trying to claim the lands of Winter Dream when I first came?” I asked, curling my fingers around the collar of his uniform. I recalled the shadow that had frightened me in my dream. Now I understood why it had scared me so.

  With a slight grunt, the Nutcracker nodded again.

  “I suppose he was biding his time then, but yes, he was.”

  “What can be done?” I could not hide the thick sadness from my voice. What would happen to the Nutcracker? Or to the lands of Winter Dream if the Mouse King somehow won? Would this dreamlike place suddenly disappear?

  “We shall see when we arrive at the castle,” the Nutcracker said softly. “They will all be overjoyed to see you.”

  “Who?” I asked, raising my brow with curiosity.

  Just as soon as the question left my lips, I was struck by an image that filled my mind. The images flashed before me like a hazy memory. There was a woman, dressed in a soft lavender gown wearing a matching, beatific smile. I could not make out her face immediately, but I knew she was lovely.

  She had to be.

  Other beautiful ladies flocked behind her in their layered gowns, resembling tulips and rose petals. There were Spanish dancers who smelled of warm, delicious coffee beans. Men dressed in bright red jackets with gold trim and gleaming swords. And they were all surrounded in a marble palace; the room was awash in dazzling, bright candlelight. I didn’t understand how or why I could see them, but dared not to question the magic.

  Perhaps just as Uncle Drosselmeyer was magical, so was the Nutcracker.