Winter's Flurry Adventure

by Elise Allen

  “But there is no trap!” Spring said delightedly. “See?”

  It was true. Nothing bad had happened since Spring stepped on the letter.

  “Maybe the Weeds changed while they were building this tunnel,” Spring enthused. “Maybe they decided to stop making traps and be nice.”

  “Weeds are never nice,” Winter assured her. “The trap’s probably broken. We got lucky.”

  The minute she said the words, a hissing sound filled the room.

  “Snakes?” Autumn asked.

  Spring shook her head. She knew snakes’ hissing language and this wasn’t it.

  Then the stench hit. All four Sparkles clamped their hands over their noses.

  “Ugh! What is that?” Summer choked.

  “It’s disgusting!” Autumn agreed.

  “It’s like someone pooped in my nose!” Winter said.

  Spring shook her head. “Poop is nicer. It’s natural. This is …”

  “Horrible!” Summer gagged. “Ew, when I talk it gets in my mouth and I can taste it!”

  In Winter’s hood, even baby Snowball coughed and sputtered at the rotting stink.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Autumn said.

  “Run!” Winter screamed.

  The Sparkles raced forward, but the odor followed them. It clung to their clothes. Their eyes watered. They poured on the speed, desperate to get away.

  When they rounded the next corner, Winter squinted. Far ahead at the top of a ramp, Winter saw a small stream of sunlight. Her heart leaped and she took a deep breath. Behind the hideous odor, she could already feel the deliciously fresh air.

  “This way!” she cried. “Come on!”

  The sisters raced toward the sunlight, so desperate to reach clean air that they didn’t even see the large stretch of rope sprawled on the floor—or the W carved into the ground beneath it.

  They didn’t see it, but Autumn stepped on it.

  Instantly, the rope snapped upward, catching all four Sparkles in what was now a large net suspended from the ceiling. The Sparkles screamed as they tumbled into one another, crunched and tangled together at the bottom of the pouch.

  “What’s happening?” Spring wailed.

  “What do you think’s happening?” Winter asked. “We’re trapped!”

  “I know that,” Spring cried, “but we’re moving!”

  The Sparkles stopped struggling and looked up. A panel had opened in the ceiling. It revealed a long, dark hole, and their entire net prison was rising straight toward it.

  The Sparkles couldn’t see a thing.

  Once they passed through the hole in the cavern’s ceiling, it slid shut again. Without the hole, there was no light at all.

  The sisters didn’t speak. Instead they listened for clues that might tell them where they were. There weren’t many. They heard the creak of whatever pulleys were drawing them higher and higher. They felt a damp chill. They smelled wet moss.

  Where were they?

  What would happen when they stopped?

  Would the Weeds be waiting?

  With a loud mechanical screech, the net stopped rising and instead swung lazily back and forth. Normally Winter liked to swing, but not when she was on the bottom of a sack all tangled in her sisters’ limbs.

  She strained her senses but saw the same thing whether her eyes were open or closed. Her ears didn’t pick up anything beyond her and her sisters’ nervously measured breaths.

  “I think we’re alone,” Winter finally said.

  “Alone and stuck,” Summer agreed. “Think you could move your knee? My arm’s going numb.”

  “I can’t feel my knee. Someone’s lying on it.”

  “Can we shift just a little? There’s an elbow in the middle of my back.”

  “Ow-ow-ow. My arm doesn’t bend that way.”

  “Do you think we’ll stop swinging soon?” Autumn asked. “I feel a little woozy.”

  “No,” Winter said. “No way are you getting sick in this thing. Not acceptable.”

  “Then I’d suggest we get out,” Autumn said. “Or at least stop moving.”

  “On it,” Summer said. “I’ll burn a hole in the net.”

  She twisted and squirmed, accidentally kicking and elbowing the other Sparkles.

  “I can’t.” Summer sighed. “My scepter’s stuck. How about you, Winter? Maybe if you ice the rope, we can break it.”

  “I’m all pretzeled up,” Winter said. “I can’t even reach my own nose.”

  “Does it itch?” Spring asked. “I could ask Snowball to scratch it.”

  Guilt washed over Winter. She had forgotten all about the baby fox. “Is he okay?” she asked.

  A low coo came from her hood. Spring giggled. “He’s fine. A little squished, but he says that just makes him cozier. He also says he’d be happy to scratch your nose, but he’s worried he might hurt you. His claws are awfully sharp.”

  “How sharp?” Winter asked. “Sharp enough to cut a hole in this rope?”

  More fox noises came from inside Winter’s hood.

  “He thinks so,” Spring said. “Should he try?”

  “YES!” Winter said.

  “Wait,” Autumn interrupted. “We don’t know how high up we are. What if he cuts a hole and we fall so far we get hurt?”

  “That would be bad,” Winter admitted, “but it would also be bad hanging here all smushed together until we starve to death.”

  “Or have to use the bathroom,” Spring noted.

  “Also not acceptable,” Winter said.

  “I’m not saying we stay here,” Autumn said, “but maybe Snowball should find out about the room before he cuts us down. Can’t foxes see in the dark?”

  “What do you think, Snowball?” Spring asked. “Can you see in here?”

  Winter felt a tickle as the pup crawled out of her hood and perched on top of her head. “Ow!” She winced. “Those little claws are sharp.”

  Snowball yipped happily, growled a little, yapped several times, then howled.

  “He says sorry for scratching you,” Spring said. “He also says we’re in a small stone room with round walls, like the inside of a tower. The net is hanging from a hook in the ceiling, but we’re only a few feet off the floor. We might get bruised if we fall, but we won’t get badly hurt. Oh, and Winter, he also wants to know if you have any more candy canes.”

  “Tons,” Winter answered Snowball. “Get us out of this net and they’re all yours.”

  The pup yipped again, then hopped off Winter’s head. The Sparkles felt him work his way around the net, then heard little growls and scratches as his teeth and claws worked the rope fibers. How long would it be until Snowball cut enough rope that they’d fall free? They had no idea.

  “AAAAHHH!”

  With no warning, the net fell open and the Sparkles tumbled to the ground. Winter sprung back up immediately. She stretched her limbs as far as they could go, thrilled to have space.

  “Snowball, you are the best!” she shouted. “If I could see you, I would kiss you!”

  Winter fell back as a small ball of fur hurled itself at her face. She wrapped her arms around Snowball and kissed him square on the snout.

  “And don’t think I forgot,” she said. She pulled a candy cane from her pocket and peeled off the wrapper. Snowball grabbed it and hopped back into Winter’s hood to enjoy the treat. Winter grinned, but then she thought of Flurry and how jealous he’d be if he saw her kissing Snowball. And worse, giving Snowball one of his candy canes. In her head, Winter could even hear his outraged cries.

  “HOOOOOOWWWWWLLLL!”

  Winter gasped. That howl wasn’t in her head at all! It was coming from somewhere outside the room! “Flurry!” she cried. She ran forward in the darkness, her hands outstretched until they found the wall. She beat on it with her fists. “Flurry! I’m here! Can you hear me?”

  He howled again. It sounded faint and far away, but it was him!

  “What is he saying, Spring?” Winter asked. “
Can he hear me?”

  “I’m sorry, Winter,” Spring said, “but you know I can’t understand Flurry.”

  Of course Winter knew that. She was just so eager to hear from her bear that she hadn’t thought about it. Spring could speak with almost any animal, but not with her sisters’ special pets. Shade the jaguar, Whisper the elephant, and Flurry were so bonded to Summer, Autumn, and Winter that they had their own communication. They couldn’t exactly chat like Spring and her unicorn, Dewdrop, but the pairs understood each other just as perfectly.

  Almost as perfectly. These howls were a complete mystery to Winter, and they were making her crazy.

  “He sounds like he’s hurt!” she wailed. “We have to help him!”

  “We will,” Autumn said soothingly. “And I have an idea. I just need to see how the wall feels.”

  “Pansies and pinecones, you speak Wall?” Spring gasped.

  “She means she’s feeling the wall,” Summer said. “With her hands. To look for weak spots. Right?”

  “Exactly,” Autumn said. “And I think I found one. Stand back.”

  The sisters retreated as far from the sound of Autumn’s voice as they could go. Then Autumn chanted:

  Orange sparkles lit up the room as Autumn waved her scepter over her head, around and around. In the glow, the sisters saw their prison for the first time. It was just as Snowball had described it, round and small. The tattered net still hung from its hook in the center of the room, but now it whipped and swayed in the wild gust Autumn was creating. She swirled the wind faster and faster until it was a tiny hurricane. Then, just when it seemed too powerful for her to control, she flicked her arm and hurled the storm forward.

  Autumn’s wind slammed into the wall’s weak spot with so much force that it blasted open a Sparkle-sized hole. Light spilled into the room. Autumn turned to her sisters and smiled at them. Tears filled her eyes.

  “Autumn, you’re crying!” Spring said. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just so good to see the three of you!” Autumn said.

  “But we’ve been together this whole time!” Winter said.

  “Yeah, but it was dark.” Summer smiled. “I think she means it’s good to actually see us.”

  Autumn nodded.

  “We love you too, Autumn,” Summer said. “You did a great job.”

  She and Spring ran to Autumn for a huge hug.

  “You are hopelessly sentimental,” Winter said. “But it’s good to see you too.” She joined her sisters in the hug, but they jumped apart when Flurry howled again.

  It was not a happy howl.

  They pushed their way through the hole in the wall and ran toward the sound of his voice. Winter could only hope they weren’t too late.

  The Sparkles were running through some kind of castle. It was enormous, but it was in bad shape. Dirty clothes covered every surface. Winter had to leap midstride to avoid a pile of Weed underwear, which is something she never wanted to see.

  “Where there’s Weed underwear, there are Weeds,” Summer said. “Keep an eye out.”

  “Do I have to?” Spring asked. “If they’re not wearing their underwear, they’re naked Weeds!”

  “Ewww!” wailed the Sparkles.

  As they zoomed through room after room following Flurry’s howls, Winter noticed filthy footprints everywhere. They covered the floors, every piece of furniture, the walls, and even the ceiling. Winter was all for playing on every possible surface, but at least she cleaned up after herself. Sure, she had magical help, but the Weeds had magic too. There was no excuse.

  “Ew-ew-ew-ew-ew,” Spring yelped as they ran. “Dirty Weed clothes touching my feet!”

  “It smells almost as bad as the stink trap in the cavern,” Summer muttered.

  Actually, Winter thought it smelled worse. The castle’s odor was a mix of mold, sweat, and rotten food. Not surprising, since mixed in with all the dirty laundry were half-filled candy wrappers, discarded pizza crusts, and ant-covered fuzzy somethings that might once have been cupcakes or brownies.

  “How do they live like this?” Autumn asked.

  “Stinkily,” Spring answered.

  Another Flurry howl made the girls run faster until finally they came to a massive set of wooden doors. They were slightly open, and when Flurry wailed once more it was clear he was right inside.

  “Flurry!” Winter shouted. “We’re here!”

  Before she opened the door, she took a deep breath and prepared herself. These were the Weeds she was dealing with. They were capable of anything. One more deep breath, then she burst into the room, scepter raised and ready for battle.

  Her jaw dropped.

  Winter thought she was ready for anything, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

  The room was enormous, its high ceilings painted with images of snarling beasts. In its center stood a giant, splintery wooden table covered in platters piled high with food … and with Thunderbolt, one of the Four Weeds. He stood right on top of the table, one naked foot in a bowl of mashed potatoes and the other in a blueberry pie. He twanged an off-key guitar electrified by his own Weedy powers. His purple spiked hair bounced back and forth as he banged his head to the ear-splitting noise.

  Flurry stood on his hind legs right in front of Thunderbolt. Quake, a short, squat Weed with hair that grew in butchered patches, boogied on the bear’s head.

  No wonder Flurry was howling. Between the screeching music and the Weed on his head, he must have been in terrible pain!

  At least that’s what Winter thought. Then she realized Flurry was smiling.

  And shimmying.

  And shaking his behind.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Winter hollered. “Are you dancing?”

  No one heard her. The music was too loud. Winter stormed to the table, ready to tackle Thunderbolt and rip the guitar out of his hands.

  “Winter, don’t,” Autumn said. “Electrified.”

  She was right. Touching Thunderbolt while he worked the guitar wouldn’t be a good plan. Instead Winter grabbed a cornbread muffin and threw it in his face.

  “Ow!”

  Thunderbolt stopped playing, so Flurry and Quake stopped dancing.

  “What happened?” Quake complained. “Where’s the music?”

  “Ask the Sparkles,” Thunderbolt retorted. “Comin’ in here and ruining everything. Who invited you, anyway?”

  Winter’s mouth dropped open. For a minute she couldn’t even find the words.

  “Who … wha … who invited us?” she finally spluttered. “Nobody invited us! We risked our lives to come and save Flurry!”

  “Save him from what?” Quake asked.

  “From … from …” Winter looked around again at the food, the guitar, and the disappointed looks on Quake’s and Flurry’s faces.

  “Um, Winter?” Summer said. “It looks like we saved him from a party.”

  “No, that can’t be right. I heard you crying,” she told Flurry, “like you were hurt.”

  “He was hungry,” Quake said. He clicked his tongue and Flurry obediently plucked Quake off his head and set him on the table next to Thunderbolt. Quake sat on a large roasted chicken as if it were a stool.

  “Aw, that’s nice,” Quake said. “Feels warm. Thanks, Butch.”

  The bear saluted in response.

  “Butch?” Winter blurted. “His name is Flurry!”

  “Flurry’s too girly,” Quake said. “Butch suits him better. Don’t it, Butch?”

  Flurry howled—the same awful, painful howl the Sparkles had heard before.

  “It doesn’t sound like he enjoys that name,” Spring said.

  “It ain’t the name,” Quake said. “I told ya, Butchie needs food. Here ya go, Butchie-Bear.”

  “Butchie-Bear?” Winter repeated.

  Quake picked up a giant bowl of cornbread muffins. Flurry opened wide.

  “You can’t give him all that!” Winter exploded.

  “You’re right,” Quake said. “I forgot the hon
ey!” He moved across the table, stepping in seven different side dishes, then grabbed a squeeze bottle of honey and emptied it over the muffins. “Now we’re ready. Eat ’em up!”

  Quake tossed the honey-coated muffins out of the bowl, and Flurry swallowed them in a single gulp.

  “Now look what you did!” Winter wailed. “He’s going to get a bellyache!”

  “Winter, I’ve seen you give him ten candy canes at a time,” Summer said.

  “That’s different,” Winter said. “And whose side are you on?”

  “Thunderbolt’s standing in potatoes and pie, and Quake used a cooked chicken as a butt-warmer,” Summer said. “Of course I’m on your side. I’m just saying, Flurry doesn’t look like his belly’s upset.”

  It was true. Winter didn’t want to believe it, but Flurry looked very happy hanging out with Quake and Thunderbolt. As for his belly, Flurry was already howling for more.

  “See?” Quake said. “He’s still hungry. Hey, Thunderbolt, move your foot.”

  Thunderbolt shook his feet around inside the food platters. Mashed potatoes and pie filling splattered everywhere. The Sparkles dodged to avoid the spatter, but a large splotch of blueberry goo smacked onto Spring’s skirt.

  “Cacti and cauliflower!” Spring wailed. Then she studied the stain and smiled. “But it’s in the shape of Dewdrop! Thank you, Thunderbolt!”

  “Uh, you’re welcome?” the Weed replied.

  “Hey,” Quake called to him, “when I said move your foot, I meant get it out of the pie!”

  “Oh. Sure.” Thunderbolt lifted his foot. It was covered in blueberry goop. He stared at it for a minute, then sat down and pulled the foot toward his mouth.

  “No,” Autumn said to him. “I can’t handle it. You cannot possibly …”

  He could. Thunderbolt leaned forward and ran his tongue from his heel to his toes, lapping up the blueberry filling. Then he slipped his tongue between his toes.

  “I’m going to try very hard to convince myself I didn’t see that,” Autumn said, “so maybe one day I can eat again. If anyone needs me for anything, just shake me.” She touched her middle fingers to her thumbs and closed her eyes.