Funny Billy, Matilda, Uncle Horace, and Arthur awoke with a collective shiver. Their breaths hung in the frigid air like ghostly wisps. huddled together, their breaths visible in the frosty air. The world outside was a white canvasâtrees draped in white, silence broken only by the occasional creak of snow-laden branches.
"Where are we?" Funny Billy's teeth chattered. "And why is it so cold?" "By the stars," Funny Billy muttered, rubbing his arms. "Did we stumble into the Snow Queen's domain?"
Matilda, her teeth chattering, gathered twigs and dry leaves. "We need a fire," she said. "Fast."
Uncle Horace, his mustache frosted, struck flint against stone. Sparks danced, and soon a feeble flame flickered in the hearth. They huddled around it, their bodies forming a protective circle.
"We're like penguins," Arthur joked, his laughter echoing off into the forest."Surviving the Antarctic together."
"Our parents," Matilda whispered, her eyes distant. "They faced this too worse, didn't they."
"True," Uncle Horace said. "
Billy leaned closer to the fire. "And here we are," he said. "Lost in the woods, with nothing but our wits and each other."
.
"We're a peculiar bunch," Uncle Horace mused. "But we're family now."
Matilda, ever the thinker, surveyed their surroundings. "We're lost," she said. "In the snowy woods."
Uncle Horace rubbed his hands together. "Lost? But how? We were in the hot dessert not long ago"
"We need shelter," Matilda declared. "And food."
And so Billy, Matilda, Uncle Horace, and Arthur trudged through knee-deep snow, their breaths forming frosty clouds. The forest enveloped them, its silence broken only by the occasional creak of snow-laden branches. Their horses had bolted, seeking warmth elsewhere. Billy's stomach growledâa hungry bear echoing their predicament.
"How much further?" Funny Billy's voice quivered. His boots were soaked, and his fingers numb.
Matilda, her cheeks flushed, pointed ahead. "Look! A bricked house!"
The cabin stood like a beaconâa refuge against winter's icy grip. Smoke curled from its chimney, promising warmth and shelter. They stumbled toward it, their footsteps leaving faint trails.
"I hope they have a fire," Uncle Horace muttered. His mustache was rimed with frost.
Arthur's teeth chattered. "And food. Maybe a kettle of hot soup."
As they reached the cabin.arthur rushed forward and knocked with his numb fingers,
Finally its wooden door creaked open. A wizened woman stood there, her eyes kind but weary.
"Ah!Lost souls," she said. "Come in."
Inside, the warmth embraced themâthe crackling fire, the scent of pine, the promise of survival. The old woman served them soup, ladling it into chipped bowls.
"Our horses," Matilda began, but the woman waved her off.
"They'll find their way," she said. "Horses are wiser than we think."
Why are you here?" Matilda asked.
The old woman's gaze held secrets. "I cannot say dears"
Billy raised an eyebrow.
"Have you met my parents?" Matilda asked in a hurry
"Yes," the old woman replied. "They are in danger. That's why I feed you all to provide energy for you long quest"
"Long quest it certainly has been! Will it soon end?" Billy barked annoyed.
"Danger?! What-"
"I cannot say more" And with that stood up briskly from her armchair and walked away.
Matilda's eyes widened sadly "Oh my dear parents" Arthur held her hand in squeezed it.
The old women came with steaming mugs of hot coco.Billy liked his lips.
They huddled around the rough-hewn table, sipping their hot coco and sharing stories. The woman listened, her eyes crinkling with memories.
"I've tended this cabin for years," she said. "
"We seek our parents," Matilda said finally."They loved each other."
The woman nodded. "Then follow the moonflower path," she said. "Find your parents before the frost claims you."
We'll find them," Arthur whispered to Matilda. "Together."
"First I story I shall tell.
And so, under the cabin's thatched roof, they listened as the old woman begun her story.
The old woman stoked the fire, its warmth chasing away the chill that clung to their bones. The cabin's walls seemed to lean in, as if eager to hear her story.
"Moonflowers," she began, her voice a gentle murmur, "are more than mere blooms. They hold secretsâof love, transformation, and the moon herself."
Funny Billy leaned forward, his eyes wide. "Tell us," he urged.
The old woman nodded, her gaze distant. "In Greek mythology," she said, "Moonflowers were associated with the goddess Selene. She personified the moonâthe ethereal wanderer who bathed the night in silver. It is said that the flowers bloomed under her gaze and reflected her radiance."
Matilda sipped her hot cocoa, imagining moonflowers unfurling like delicate parasols. "And what do they symbolize?" she asked.
"Transformative power," the old woman replied. *"The ephemeral nature of beauty. Moonflowers open only at night, their petals unfolding like secrets whispered in the dark. They remind us that even fleeting moments can be exquisite."
Uncle Horace leaned back, his eyes half-closed. "And the Native American tribes?" he inquired.
"Ah," the old woman smiled. "Each tribe weaves its own tapestry of beliefs. To some, moonflowers are gatewaysâto spirit realms, dreams, and healing. They're used in rituals, their fragrance an invitation to the divine."
Arthur traced patterns on the wooden table. "And love?" he asked softly.
"In ancient Aztec culture," the old woman said, *"the moonflower was associated with the goddess Xochiquetzal. She held sway over love, beauty, and fertility. The flower adorned altars, its white petals invoking passion and abundance."
Outside, the setting sunpeeked through the cabin's window, casting silvery threads across the floor. The old woman's eyes sparkled.
"Listen," she whispered. "Tonight, as you sip cocoa and share this fire, the moonflowers in the Glass Garden awaken. They remember witnessed loveâthe stolen glances, the laughter. They bloom, weaving constellations in their petals."
"Remember," she said, "that even in the darkest nights, moonflowers bloom. And so can your hearts."