(December Project—started 2020)

Beyond the bustling cities and lively suburbs lies a forest that had been untouched for years. It appeared to be two feet from the Arctic Circle, and thus snow always befell the region. The air was crisp with the smell of pinecones and frost, and at night the stars bequeathed their beautiful light onto the snowy ground with increased willing. There were no digital clocks and very little analog clocks, thus whoever wandered throughout this wintry forest relied on the sun, moon, and stars throughout the day. Not many entered the forest, due to everyone’s fear of the cold.
Everyone’s, except the four residents inside the forest.
Deep inside, beyond the explored boundaries of the forest, and ultimately the world, one family, of two adults, two children, and three pets, dwells inside the forest. Rumor has it their lineage points towards an ancient, magical group of nymphs, Mírasnoë, or the Snowlife, further rumored to be native to this forest, and so far it appears this rumor is true. All that is truly known about this family is that they have not seen another in years, the last time one left the forest being some 70 years ago, and the last time someone traveled and met them being 200 years prior.

After a long, blizzardy night the sun finally climbs over the horizon, and the forest is glad for the relief from the icy storm. Inside a frostbitten wooden cabin the parents of the supposed Mírasnoë family organized a breakfast of moonberries and starlot, a healthy yet sugary pastry with unknown origins. December was the most frigid time of the year, yet the family, as with the Mírasnoë folk their lineage traces to, secured traditions friendly of the cold. Candles, which, to folks whom live farther south’s surprise, are in many different colors, were placed all about the house. Snowlis lotuses were hung like holly decorations, as well as used as a hair accessory. The adults baked a magnificent and unique flavor of starlot. Accompanying them was a songmoon finch, one that they had tamed themselves, which knew very well the scents of the delicacies of the Mírasnoë, even helping notice when they were well-cooked; it’d been rescued and tamed approximately fifty years prior.

It was the family themselves that had claimed they were descendants of the Mírasnoë some 70 years before this day. The folks farther south of them did not believe it; they were “enhanced” in sciences, and thus suggested a DNA test, which the family declined. South residents debate whether the claim was true or false, yet the adults of the family, whom, as semi-immortals, vividly remember not only being descendants of the nymphs, but being among them…

The older sister of the two siblings awoke silently to the purr of her pet forest lynx. Her younger brother was still sound asleep next to her. She blinked slowly, rubbing her eyes a bit, before soundlessly standing up. Her footsteps blended in with the sound of the wind brushing across the tree branches outside. Without sound she left the room, closing the door behind her. The smell of starlot trickled through the hallway.
“Ä®njä, Chrysylis, good morning.”
The parents were bilingual, and were glad to teach their kids both languages, English and their exclusive language Mírrïceé. Both Chrysylis and her brother Cereus were happy nymph children growing up in a unique culture, and they were the only in the world who were doing so. Mírasnoë were characterized by a few frost marks on their skin, most commonly on the face or shoulder; all four family members had said marks on their cheek and right arm.
“Glacius,” called out the mother of Chrysylis and Cereus, “I think the starlot is well prepaiď.” Glacius, the father of the two children, rushed over to the hot spring outside, which above it was a table, and on said table was a pan of starlot. Quickly he yanked the starlot off of the table and threw it in the air once, for his own safety, before catching the now-frosted pastry. “Perfect.” The wind had immediately cooled down the starlot, thus making it safe for a Mírasnoë to touch. This was a custom everyday morning routine. “Do you have the starsilk sugar, Pyrlis?”
Chrysylis’ mother, from inside, brought a bag of sugar; the bag was made out of a very soft fabric gathered from shearing wild goat. Inside was a celestial item now gathered only by she, and she sprinkled this starsilk sugar onto the pastry. Chrysylis from inside nodded.
“Cereus isn’t up yet but when he is let him rest assured, this is another starlot well made.”
Both parents smiled. Complimenting for a meal well made was a kind custom.

Soon after Cereus walked out of the kids’ room and smirked when he identified the smell. “Ah, so it’s frostpear starlot today?”
“Yes,” replied Glacius, smirking, “and thanks to your mother it was baked just right.” Cereus smiled, as with Pyrlis.

Soon after breakfast, the two children adventured to the lake near their cottage, mounted on their pet icedeer. Chrysylis guided the deer around the lake as the two siblings viewed the frosty waters; Cereus watched as his sister, four years older than he, leaned over, still mounted on the stag, and dipped her finger into the water. Despite the subzero temperatures there was no effect on twelve year old Chrysylis. Cereus laughed and followed suit; he almost fell off of the mighty deer’s back, only to be swiftly saved by his sister’s firm hand. “Don’t test the lake too fast now,” she joked, laughing wholesomely. He smirked in return. “That is a challenge I can accept. Just nú doz spedre.” Both siblings laughed. “Agreed. Not too fast. Nú doz spedre.” Chrysylis then proceeded to dismount the stag, and Cereus followed suit. Both children then began to collect berries, said berries looking almost crystalline in appearance, from bushes on the banks of the lake. They were the same moonberries that they had for breakfast. The stag ate one out of the hand of Chrysylis, whereas Cereus tossed one into the lake for the fish to eat. Generosity was a custom of the Mírasnoë.

“Does Mom need herbs for cooking lunch?”

Cereus looked to his sister, earnest. The herb Chrysylis was speaking of was tasteless to humans and could survive eternal winter like the winter in the forest; it was a Mírasnoë custom to use such herbs in normal cuisine.

“We should probably collect some just in case. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Chrysylis nodded, picking some needles of the herb and putting them in the basket with the moonberries. Without a word said, she climbed up an old tree to get some other leaves to add.

“What are those again?” asked her brother.

“The big frosty leaves that you always liked wrapped around some other fruits. You’d take them out during your walks around when we were younger. Did I never tell you what they were?”

“No. I just assumed it was some Mírasnoë version of what the humans call ‘spinach’…?”

“It would actually be a Mírrïceé variant of oak leaf, because humans actually can’t eat these leaves, but that’s a good guess…”

“Wow. Imagine going your whole life without those glacier rolls.”

“Glacier rolls! That’s what our parents called the wraps they made…”

Cereus nodded, laughing to himself, before looking to the sky.
Judging off of the position of the sun, he could tell that it was almost noon.

“I think we have to go back now.”

Chrysylis nodded in agreement. Despite it nearly being high noon, the cold winds did not let go of the forests. They wouldn’t even in summer. They wouldn’t even on the hottest day of the year.

Humans may not be able to handle it.

The Mírasnoë absolutely could.

There had been no human in these lands for decades, and even when there was, Glacius and Pyrlis both recall them as folk intolerant of the cold. They never entered the forest without at least three layers of their fabric.
Considering that, Pyrlis wondered if their fabric even worked correctly.

The icedeer let out a small neigh when Chrysylis approached, and she responded by giving it a small, gentle head pat; upon doing so, a small cloud of snow was emitted from the icedeer’s forehead.
The siblings chuckled, and the icedeer walked in place happily.

Both siblings mounted the icedeer, and returned to the house. The commute merely took five minutes before the snow-dusted cottage could be seen.
Pyrlis was outside, weaving together something from the wild goat fabric she had used before for the bag of sugar. She looked up from her work to greet her children.

“Įnjä!”

“Įnjä! Where’s Dad?”

“He’s at Icicle Mountain, gathering more of the mountain’s herbs and wood.”

“Oh!” Cereus pulled out the basket of herbs and berries the two siblings had collected. “Also, here’s the berries you asked for, as well as some extra herbs just in case.”

“Oh thank you!”