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Larena Upland loved nothing more than her family gathering for a nice dinner together.
She was a particular woman and liked all of her little ducklings neatly in a row, tottering into the dining room at their father’s familiar whistle. There wasn’t a single night in the Upland house where dinners were taken in separate places; it simply wasn’t done. They had meals as a family or not at all. Only when a child had taken ill were they excused, and so far this winter, no one had caught the sneezes or a stomach bug. A small blessing, certainly, though Larena knew it probably wouldn’t last. Outside, fresh snow was falling in fluffy white flakes. They would surely get another blanket in the night, one that would lovingly coat their garden in glistening ivory. Highmuster stood by the nearest pane, puffing at his pipe. Larena herself was helping Nana set the table, making sure every plate and piece of silverware was lovingly placed for each of her eight children.
“Larena, my darling, would you please allow the staff to handle that?” Highmuster gave a mighty guffaw from behind a plume of smoke. “You’re too pregnant for so much work.”
“Oh, tush, Highmuster. Setting out plates is hardly straining,” Larena clipped back, mindlessly setting a hand on her swollen stomach. They had another little one coming soon and she couldn’t be happier. She’d always dreamed of a big family; there was simply too much love in her heart to give for only one or two little ones. As was common in their house, the first of her children to enter the room were her eldest’s. Delilah and Heinrich stormed through like thunder, deep in a debate regarding Ozian politics. As they took their usual places, still nose to nose in conversation, Larena tsked in her cheek and cleared her throat with a dainty: “Ahem?”
The pair stopped chattering, turning to face her with polite head tilts.
“Good evening, mother,” they both greeted in unison. Larena smiled, but brandished a single warning finger.
“No politics at the table, please. That sort of conversation is for the den.”
“Indeed,” Highmuster agreed. “Politics are to be discussed over brandy and a smoke like true politicians. It has no place at the table.”
“Quite so,” Larena nodded, setting out the last plate and napkin with a clatter. “Listen to your father.”
Delilah and Heinrich both conceded, but shot each other sideways looks before jumping into a new conversation about the state of Frottica’s exports. The next to enter the room were the twins, Laurel and Callandra, attached at the hip as they always were. They gave Larena a kiss on the cheek each before taking their places, showing off the bangles and bracelets they’d gotten in Frottica just that morning. Next was Georgine, with her nose in a book as per usual. And finally, the last to arrive was Pastoria, who was munching on something despite it being dinnertime. Tottering along beside her and clinging to his sister's hand was little Haymitch, who still had jam all over his face from a cookie stolen from the dish out by the Lurlinemas tree.
“Oh, Haymitch,” Larena cooed, groaning a little as she lifted her son up off the floor. “You are a mess, my treasure. I’ve told you plenty to stay away from the cookie tray.”
Using a napkin passed to her by Nana, Larena gently wiped the toddlers cheeks, his laughter contagious as he giggled and squirmed in her arms. Distracted by the entrance of her youngest son, it was Highmuster who took a headcount, only to grumble under his mustache.
“Larena?”
“Hmm? What is it, darling?”
“Don’t look now, but Galynnda is missing again.”
“What?” Larena did look, counting the number of heads now at the table. The place between Georgine and Pastoria was empty. “Oh, Oz.” The mother sighed in exasperation, gently setting Haymitch down into a wooden highchair right next to her own. “That girl will be the death of us, Highmuster.”
“Quite so,” the man agreed, clearing his pipe into an ashtray. “Where do you suppose she ran off to this time?”
“She needs a tether and a collar of bells,” Larena chided, fretting a bit as she took in the empty chair at the table. She hated when one of her ducklings was missing. Though, Galinda being late to dinner wasn’t uncommon. She often got distracted, wandering about wherever the Gillikin breeze blew. “One of these days all this wandering will get her into trouble.”
“She’s a teenager, Larena. A free spirit, just like you were at that age.” Highmuster wandered to the dining room door and peeked out into the foyer. He called their middle daughter's name and gave another whistle, only for no one to appear. Knowing now that Galinda wasn’t anywhere in the house, Larena turned back to the table.
“Delilah was never this much trouble,” she complained under her breath, shaking her head as she tapped a glass with the side of her fork. When all eyes were on her, Larena spoke. “Have any of you seen your sister today?”
“She went into town with us, mother,” Laurel offered. “But she didn’t seem all that interested in shopping.”
“No, she wanted to go walk out by the woods,” Callandra agreed. “But it was too cold for us so we said no and dragged her to the stores anyway.”
“Did she not come back with you?” Larena wondered, her brows furrowing. It was dark, after all, and the snow was coming down heavily. She didn’t like the idea of any of her little ones being out once the sun had set; it was freezing this time of year. And that anxious part of her began to buzz; a motherly instinct which had developed during her very first pregnancy as a young woman.
“She did, but not for long,” Laurel shrugged, glancing at her sister who mimicked the motion with her shoulders. “We told her to come back once the snow started, but she decided to head to Frottica Court before coming all the way home.”
“Did anyone see her return?”
Nothing but head shakes around the table. Gathering up the shawl she was wearing, Larena turned and headed out of the dining room. Ignoring the call of her husband, she hurried up the stairs as fast as her pregnant body would allow. Out of breath by the time she reached the landing, she was forced to walk towards Galinda’s room. Entering without bothering to knock first, the pink-hued suite was dark and cold. The hearth had died out, and the bed was still made. Her daughter hadn’t been here. “No. No, no, no.” Turning around, Larena bumped into Highmuster, who grabbed onto her arms.
“Larena, what’s the matter?”
“Galinda is gone. No one has seen her come home, meaning she’s out in that dreadful weather. Highmuster, it’s freezing out there.”
“Larena, I’m sure she just lost track of time at Frottica Court—”
“No. No, something is terribly wrong. I can feel it.” Pushing past her husband, Larena reached the top of the stairs. Her heart was racing as she addressed the many faces now poking curiously from the dining room. “Everyone get your capes and boots on.”
“Mother, I’m sure Galinda will be home soon,” Delilah consoled, only for Larena to wave her hand dismissively.
“Then we’ll find her on her way back. No child of mine will be left to walk home in the dark and snow. Highmuster, fetch the lanterns and summon Cinnamon with the sleigh.”
“Larena, you shouldn’t be out there either,” the man insisted, hurrying to catch up as Larena practically ran down the stairs as quickly as she could without falling. “I will take Heinrich and we’ll search. Stay here and keep warm.”
“Like hell and oz I will, Highmuster Adonis-Upland!” Larena accepted her winter cloak from Nana, swinging it elegantly around her shoulders. “That’s my baby out there.”
“Larena–”
“Another word out of you and you’ll sleep in the barn until springtime!” Larena snapped harshly, her brows firm as she pointed to the door. “Go.”
“I–yes, dear.”
As the man of the house left in a rush, Larena paced nervously as the rest of her children gathered around her. When the sound of familiar sleigh bells approached from outside, she split the group.
“Heinrich, Delilah, you’ll come with us to search the woods. Laurel, take Callandra and a lantern and walk up the road towards Frottica Court. If Galinda is still walking home, you can’t miss her. Once you get there, find a place to keep warm. We’ll circle back to pick you up. Be safe, and don’t get separated.”
“Yes mother.” Laurel accepted a lantern from her father, the twins darting off into the night as their footsteps crunched in the deep snow.
“What do we do, mom?” Pastoria asked, her blue eyes huge as she held Georgine’s hand. “Can we help?”
“Stay close to the house, call your sister’s name and hold up the light just in case she took a wrong turn and got lost. Don’t go off on your own, the snow is deep out on the flatlands.”
Georgine nodded, accepting a second lantern passed over by Highmuster. With the family properly split up, the elder Upland’s boarded the sleigh and took off without delay into the night. They passed the twins on the way, who were marching along checking the ditches and fences. Once they reached Frottica Court, all seemed quiet. Too quiet. Galloping through the snow at full speed with only a few lamps to guide their way, Larena desperately held a blanket over herself. She was shaking, through knew it wasn’t from the cold. The thought of losing one of her children so suddenly made her stomach turn ice; colder than the brisk wind which clawed through her hair or the snow catching on her coat and burning across her cheeks.
By now, the weather had covered up any old tracks left by other sleds. The field towards the woods was pristine and untouched. But as they approache, a dark figure was coming at them from the other direction. The chestnut-colored stallion was running at a full gallop, tossing up massive plumes of white powder. As he got closer, Highmuster leapt from the sled, grabbing hold of a few guide ropes which still looped around the poor fellows neck as he reared and panicked in surprise.
“Woah, now. Woah, fella,” Highmuster said, pulling the Horse around by the muzzle as he calmed from a wild panic. “Where did you come from, sir? What happened?”
“A–a noise!” The Horse whinnied out in fright. He was still hitched up, though there was no sled besides a few broken off pieces of wood which hung loose from leather strapping. “A loud noise! I thought it was a wolf, I had to run!”
“Sir, please,” Highmuster insisted. “Who were you with? Where is your load?”
“I was with the young Upland girl,” the Horse said, causing Larena’s heart to stop beating. She had hoped Galinda really was just running late. But now, her worst fears were realized. Something terrible had happened, something that kept her from coming back on her own. The young stallion kept talking, snorting and dancing worriedly on his hooves. “I lost the sled along the trail in fright. I–I think it may have hit something. But I was so afraid, I dared not look back.”
“You mean she’s out there in the woods alone?” Larena’s shaking intensified as Delilah wrapped both arms around her. “Oh Highmuster–”
“Sir, that’s our daughter you left behind!”
“I–I’m terribly sorry,” the Horse apologised, tossing his head. “I can take you along the path, or as much of it as I can remember.”
“You better,” Highmuster growled, swinging back into the sleigh. “Lead on.”
With a shaking nod, the chestnut stallion turned himself around, saying something to Cinnamon in Horse language before they began again back into the snowy woods.
“Galinda will be ok, mother,” Delilah consoled as Larena trembled, her heart beating so hard against the inside of her chest that she felt it might break open. “She’ll be ok. You have to stay calm for the baby.”
“I knew her wandering would lead to something like this,” Larena worried, jostling with the sled as it passed over frozen piles of powder and hidden roots or stones. “I should’ve kept her home.”
“Galinda would’ve just climbed out the window or something,” Heinrich offered, trying to lighten the mood as he held a lantern up over his head. “She’s more of a free spirit than any of us. You know we can’t keep her in once place for long.”
“All the more reason to keep her in my sight, so this sort of thing doesn’t happen!” Larena gave a weak and terrified cry, her eyes scanning the wooded darkness but not seeing much of anything. The thought of her poor baby wandering around lost or hurt made her stomach churn hard enough to be sick. Larena wanted every little duckling exactly where they were supposed to be; tucked in and warm beneath her wing. It didn’t matter at all how old they were; she felt so empty without her children close by. And the thought of possibly losing one? Especially Galinda, who had been such a beautiful light in her life since she was born? It was enough to make her nearly succumb to anguish.
Thankfully, her husband’s keen eye was practiced from years of skeet shooting, even in the dark. He swung out his lantern as they rounded a sharp and sudden bend; one sudden enough to nearly topple the sled.
“I see something!” Highmuster’s voice echoed through the dark, nearly stolen by the blustering wind. “Heinrich, your light, boy.”
“Yes, father.”
“Do you see her?” Larena wanted to jump to her feet, but Delilah held her down with both hands. The sled jerked to a rough stop as Cinnamon nearly ran them into a dead end thicket. In the golden light of the two men’s lamps, it was clear that the snow had been roughly overturned. Deep gouges in the drift showed a sled traveling at high speed suddenly collapsing, flying from the trail and off into the snow. The two seater sleigh they owned had careened wildly off course, one of the skis snapped in half and sticking from the blanket of white. The main body of the vehicle was completely overturned against a tree, already with a hefty covering of snow on top of it.
Highmuster blustered in alarm. “Galynnda!”
“Galinda!” Heinrich jumped from his place, swinging his light around as he hurried towards the trees. He approached the overturned sleigh without fear, dropping to his knees and peering underneath. “Father, she’s here! Help me lift this.”
Highmuster hurried to meet his son as fast as his aged body would allow, dropping his lamp as the two men grabbed the wooden remnants of what Galinda had been riding in. Heaving it aside, a familiar shock of blonde hair caught in the dim gold light. Being undercover had kept snow from burying her and protected her from the wind. But it did little to block out the harsh winter cold.
Larena’s entire body threatened to give out as the child was gathered limply into her father’s arms. She wasn’t moving, and in the dark, it was impossible to tell if she was even breathing.
“Here, Larena.” Highmuster appeared with a winded huff, passing Galinda immediately into Delilah’s arms “She’s freezing cold.”
“Oh, my baby! My little Galynnda.” Accepting her child’s head into her lap, Delilah shuffled out of her coat, tossing it over her sister’s legs. Galinda’s hat and gloves were missing, leaving her badly winter chapped and worriedly pink. There were deep tears in her jacket, while a few buttons had come loose and vanished into the snow. Cradling the teenager's face, her beautiful brown eyes remained dutifully shut, purple-tinged lips faintly parted. There was a cut on her hairline, deep but no longer oozing in the cold, while a bruise trailed down her jaw. “Galynnda, ma dazia.” Removing her mittens, Larena cradled her child’s face with trembling fingers. “C’era vest a’la tertamon.”
“Here, mother.” Heinrich dutifully offered his cape which Larena quickly tossed over her daughter in an attempt to keep her warm. Tugging at her own scarf, she gently dabbed it at the open wound on Galinda’s head, tears boiling hot along her eyelids.
“Galinda, my love. Wake up, sweetheart. It’s mummy. Momsie is here.”
“She needs a doctor,” Delilah insisted, taking Galinda’s frozen hands and rubbing the fingers in her gloves. “Her color isn’t right; she might catch hypothermia out there.”
“I can go,” Heinrich offered, grabbing onto the reins of the chestnut Horse who still stood nearby. “I’ve ridden without a saddle before. I’ll rouse Dr. Gallywald and summon him to the house.”
“Go son, we’ll meet you there,” Highmuster insisted, turning to the Horse who had accompanied them. “Take my son into town as fast as your legs will carry you.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” the Horse agreed, taking off at high speed back through the forest ahead of them. Reorienting the sled back towards Frottica Court took longer than Larena wanted, while the mad dash back seemed to move in slow motion. Larena held Galinda’s head against her stomach, keeping her bundled against the whipping wind and snowfall. Delilah was silent, a certain colorlessness having overtaken her pretty features as she tried her best to keep her sister’s fingers and hands warm. Highmuster was entirely stoic, having shed his own cloak to help cover his daughter who still shivered and quaked violently in her unconsciousness.
When they arrived home, he would be the one carry Galinda back inside the house without a word. He didn’t bother with the stairs, taking her right to the master suite on the first floor instead. Larena would order him out again to return down the road for the twins, while she asked Delilah to wait in the foyer for the arrival of the Doctor. Larena, meanwhile, stripped Galinda from her snow-soaked clothes, hissing at every bruise, scratch, or snow burn she found. Nana stoked a warm fire and filled a metal bed warmer with coals, sticking it under the covers. And eventually it was warm enough that Larena was forced to shed her layers into her dinner gown. But she remained firmly planted by her daughter's side, fretting and wiping tears from her eyes until Dr. Gallywald arrived.
Highmuster would return shortly as well, assuring Larena that all of the children were accounted for and in the house together. This brought some comfort, though not enough to ease her still fluttering heart. Leaving Nana to look after the children while they were occupied, the two parents waited nervously as the Doctor began his assessment.
“Seems to me that Miss Galinda hit a rock or some other hard object on her way down,” the man told them, gently cleaning and taping up the cut on Galinda’s temple. “There doesn’t seem to be a fracture, but you can never be too sure. I expect bruising and a headache for several days, as well as a notable scar. I don’t see any frostbite, and her body temperature is already on the rise. She should be properly warm again in no time at all.”
“So she’s alright?” Larena worried, her body still shaking as Highmuster kept a hand on her shoulder. “When will she wake up?”
“It’s hard to say, Lady Upland. Head injuries can be tricky.” Dressing any other cuts with gauze and cotton patches, Dr. Gallywald lifted one of Galinda’s eyelids with his thumb. “A concussion is a certainty, though. Expect confusion and a bit of nausea; maybe even some memory loss.”
“Memory loss, sir?” Highmuster wondered. “What kind of memory loss?”
“Short term, I’d say. She may not remember much about what happened, if at all. I wouldn’t push her to remember if she doesn’t. Once she wakes, I suggest several days of strict bedrest and at least a week of minimal activity. I’ll prescribe a tonic to help with any aches and pains, as well as one for the headache.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you.” Larena tried her best to relax, sitting at the bedside as she gently pet her daughter's cold cheek. “We’ll make sure she gets plenty of rest.”
“Keep her warm and hydrated, and watch closely for any sign of fever.”
“You’re a good man, Doctor.” Highmuster left Larena’s side, patting Dr. Gallywald’s shoulder and giving him a firm handshake. “Let’s take a drink in the study, shall we?”
“Lady Upland, I’ll return first thing tomorrow morning. I have hopes that Miss Galinda should be awake by then.”
“Thank you again, Doctor. Please, go have a drink. Rest if you need.”
Nodding politely, the two men left the room, speaking in hushed voices. This left Larena alone with her young daughter. One who she’d nearly lost. Awkwardly sitting up against the pillows despite her swollen abdomen, Larena gathered her baby up into her arms, hand nervously smoothing flaxen strands from her pale face. Outside, the snow was still falling. It danced in spirals on the wind, blowing past the window in an almost taunting manner. Larena did her best to calm herself; to reassure herself that Galinda was in her arms and not still lost in the snow. But every time she accidentally dozed, the horrible realization of what nearly happened came right back and woke her.
Her grey eyes would snap open, skin shimmering with a sheen of sweat as her heart raced. She would then check on her daughter, running a hand over her tangled hair and tracing a thumb along her now rosy cheek. As promised, Larena made sure Galinda hadn’t developed a fever, shifting her every so often to a more comfortable position. For hours Larena drifted in and out, humming lullabies under her breath. She didn’t know when the sun had risen; just that it had. The clouds had cleared, revealing an orange sky filled with nothing but Lurline’s sunrise. Still drifting in and out tiredly, Larena knew Highmuster had been in the room recently as she could smell his buttonwood smoke. But it was something else that woke her.
Movement.
Larena’s eyes snapped open in surprise. She glanced down at where Galinda was still cradled against her. But where last night she had been still as death, the teenager’s lashes were now twitching.
“Galynnda?” Tapping her daughters cheeks to try and rouse her, Larena’s hand shook as she felt the cotton patch hiding the wound in her child’s hairline. “Galinda, ma cariza, it’s me. It’s momsie.”
Galinda didn’t say anything, but did give a very weak groan of pain. Awkwardly maneuvering out from beneath her daughter, Larena rolled off the bed, groaning herself in discomfort as she held her belly. Dutifully however, she stacked pillows and tucked the blankets back up, making sure Galinda was comfortable. And, slowly but surely, her lashes opened, a dazed pair of brown eyes staring up at her.
“Galinda.” Nearly sobbing with relief, Larena tried not to make too much noise as she touched her daughter’s face, caressing it. “My little button, welcome back.”
“…Momsie…?”
“I’m right here, dear.” Giving her very best watery smile, Larena felt a tear escape down her face as she exhaled sharply. “Mummy is right here; everything is ok now.”
“Larena?” Larena looked up as Highmuster pushed into the room. He was using his cane to walk today, limping along the carpet. No doubt he was sore from the excitement from the night before; his body wasn’t as spry as it used to be. “Larena, what’s the matter? What happened?”
“You’re just in time, my love. Look who’s woken up.”
Hughmuster hurried his pace, coming to the bedside as Galinda blinked dazedly up at him. The man gave a deep and bellowing sigh as he chuckled, reaching down to pat his daughter’s hair.
“Ah. How are you feeling, little one?”
Galinda’s brows slowly knitted together. She seemed confused, glancing between them before finding the daylight-filled window.
“M—Momsie? Popsicle? Wh—what happened?”
“You had an accident, dear,” Larena explained, still tracing her daughter's face, committing every line to memory all over again. “You hit your head.”
“You gave us quite a scare, young lady,” Highmuster agreed, clearly itching for his pipe but unwilling to smoke it in front of his daughter. “Larena, love, the Doctor is here.”
“Of course, send him in.” Nodding to her husband, Highmuster planted a kiss on Galinda’s forehead before excusing himself. Larena took her daughters hand from under the blankets, giving it a tight squeeze. There was silent for a beat, then two. Eventually, Galinda broke it as she gave a little whine of discomfort.
“Momsie?”
“Yes, dear?”
“My head hurts.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I know, I’m sorry.” Giving her daughter a sympathetic gaze, Larena leaned in, pressing a sloppy kiss on the girl's cheek. She was right back where she needed to be, after all. Tucked safely under her wing and ready to be taken care of again. “But it’s alright. Lurline was watching over you, you know,” she admitted with a teary chuckle, pulling her daughter in for a much needed hug. “You’re safe now. Everything is going to be ok.”