A Winterland Tale - Part Three

It only took a heartbeat for Clare to shrink down to the nutcracker’s size. And she wasn’t even that big as the nutcracker towered over her by a full foot, if not more.

Clare wanted to say something, but what? What did she ask him?

She squeaked out the only thing she could. “How?”

The wooden doll didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her shivering body against his and began lifting her off of her feet. Clare fought hard, but her attacker wasn’t made of flesh and bone. There wasn’t a place that she could hit him to force him to drop her. All she could do was scream as he hefted her over his bright red shoulder.

Clare closed her eyes. “This can’t be real,” she whispered to herself as a tear fell down her cheek.

Then he began walking. His wooden legs were stiff and the movement was unnatural as his little feet hit the concrete. He carried her over to the music box she had opened earlier that evening. Music started playing from it and Clare could hear creaking and groaning, like a great door was being opened.

Clare also heard hushed giggles as the nutcracker stepped up into the box. She had stopped struggling and just dangled there, feeling helpless. She didn’t know what was going to happen or where he was going to take her, and her feeling of helplessness grew as she watched the harlequin and columbine from her music box bend down and smile and wave at her as she was carried through a portal.

Her breath left her as her garage disappeared, replaced by a freezing blizzard. Ice and snow bit into her cheeks and there was nothing to see but a sheet of swirling white. Her home was gone.

The nutcracker set her gently on her feet and her first thought was to run.

As she quickly debated her options, she looked up at her kidnapper. He had changed. He was no longer the brightly painted doll with the wooden sword, but a tall, gorgeous soldier. His attire was still bright, but made of actual fabric now, and his sword hung on his belt, its hilt glittering with jewels.

Once again, Clare was at a loss for words and all thought of escaping was temporarily forgotten.

“I want to thank you for all you have done for me.”

She shook from his words as much as from the storm, not believing that this man could possibly have been the nutcracker she bought for her mother.

His deep baritone voice was a soothing balm for her nerves, and again, he bundled her against his chest. “You fixed me when I was broken. You rescued me from the mice. Most of all, you found the doorway for me to return to my home. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. The ridiculousness of her situation, once again, made her laugh. She thought if she could laugh, she could cover her tears. “Is there any place we can go to get out of the snow?”

He wiped his hand over her hair. “This isn’t snow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a fairy swarm. It’s mating season.”

She shuddered. “Why is it so cold?”

The nutcracker nudged her forward, trying to get her walking. “They are frost faeries. Wherever they roam, they leave ice and snow in their wake. I don’t want to tell you what will happen if we stay here.”

“That’s cool because I don’t want to know,” she said as she trudged through the blanket of snow.

“We won’t have to walk long. A carriage will arrive for us shortly and I will take you to my home. It is the least I can do after all you have done for me.”

Clare didn’t want to tell him she had no intention of going to his home. She needed him to get her out of this orgy, out of the thick snow under her feet, and then to tell her where the hell she was. “Who is sending your carriage? I mean, how do they know that we’re here? You haven’t called anyone.”

He wrapped his arm around her. She supposed he was trying not to lose her in the frost faerie swarm. He replied, “My advisor always knows where I am, and I know she has been waiting for me to return. She will come. Do not worry.”

Like everything else happening around her, a carriage appeared, like magic. It was large and golden and it took everything Clare had not to run toward it. As they neared, the door opened and a sparkling hand emerged to help her into the carriage.

Clare’s instinct screamed at her to turn away, but she wasn’t stupid. There was nowhere else to go. She prayed that the nutcracker truly was grateful for her help with the mice and that, because of that, he wouldn’t hurt her.

She bit back her fear and held on to the dwindling hope that this was all a dream as she slid her hand into the sparkling stranger’s hand.

To be continued…