Excerpt: Snowbelle

Chapter One:
The Ice Statue of Nir
Date: 107th year of the Third Age

The town of Nir was all a bustle. The Winter Solstice was soon here.
Gani, the local artisan was mixing a potion into a large vat of water behind his house.
His little daughter, Evangeline, peered over the rim of the vat. She pricked her tiny thumb on the old, chipped rim. Before she could pop her thumb into her mouth a drop of blood fell into the water.
Gani turned “Young lady, come down off of that table.” He said “and you’re much too old to be sucking your thumb.” He took her off the table and it being late tucked her in and went back to finish the potion.
He put in special potions that would make the ice like stone. It would never melt. This year’s ice sculpture would stand in the town center for years. Rain would not etch it, nor would his own tools.
He finished mixing and poured the water into a mold, chanting spells over it.
The mold sat for many days, freezing the water inside. Finally it was placed in the town square the night before the Winter Solstice.
“I heard that this is your best work yet.” The mayor said to Gani, minutes before the unveiling.
“Yes. I did everything just right, I’m sure, but I still worry, there could still be flaws in the ice.”
“I’m sure it will all be fine, Gani.” The mayor clapped him on the back before hoping up the makeshift stage that had been set up for the unveiling of the statue.
Evangeline didn’t listen to the speech, or even the feigned laughter from the crowd as the mayor’s speech became longer and longer. Then, at long last the mayor declared the festival open and motioned Gani up to the stage where he was presented with a mallet and pick.
Gani gingerly tapped the pick into the plaster mold. It fell away easily in small pieces and flakes. Finally the statue stood before the eyes of the townsfolk.
The ice was as clear as Gani could ever have hoped, absolutely flawless, save for a shining red oval on her forehead which two locks of hair flowed from. She was about 4 feet tall with a slight build. She was a dancer in the middle of a graceful pirouette, her hair flowing behind her, her eyes gently closed. She looked as though any moment she might hop down from the pedestal and dance about the square.
She didn’t.
She did, however, fall off the pedestal, crash through the hastily made stage and land face down in the snow, plaster chips and broken stage in a most undignified way.
The townsfolk gasped and stepped back. Gani stood still next to the empty pedestal, dumbfounded. For a moment the town was still, and then the statue began to move again, slowly flexing her fingers. First curling them into a fist in the snow, and then uncurling them.