The Seventh Day of Midwinter

Takkan wasn’t at Theatre Day, although Sagi was. Mei saw Janice standing on her own, looking lost without Frank. He walked over to her, leaving Gabu to chat with Jess and Gon. “Hello, Janice,” he said.

“Hello, Mei.” Her voice sounded slightly hollow. “Thanks for yesterday. It meant a lot to me that you and the others came.”

“It was no trouble,” Mei said. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll survive.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that. “I’m glad to hear it. You’ll be sure to let us know if you need anything?”

“I will. Thanks again.”

Mei smiled awkwardly. The conversation was clearly over, but he didn’t want to leave Janice standing there alone. He ended up hovering near her until they were ready to start practising.

Since Sagi was here today, they could once again practise scenes involving his character, Dalton. The choir was also more full than it had been last time, with only around one animal in three unaccounted for.

The main scene they worked through today involved Mei’s character, Sandra, going on a date with Dalton that went spectacularly wrong. In the aftermath, both Sandra and Dalton sang alone, unsure if the other would want to see them again.

When it came time for Mei’s song, he stood on the riverbank and gazed down into the water. “Guess mine is not the first heart broken,” he sang, accompanied by the choir. “My eyes are not the first to cry. I’m not the first to know, there’s just no getting over you.”

Despite playing one of the two leading characters, there weren’t many songs in the play that Mei had solo lines in. This was one of the only two songs that were his alone, and the second one didn’t really count. He was just thankful that this one didn’t involve dancing as well as singing.

“I know I’m just a fool who’s willing, to sit around and wait for you. But baby, can’t you see? There’s nothing else for me to do. I’m hopelessly devoted to you.

“But now…” The choir swelled, and Mei took in a deep breath. “There’s nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside. I’m out of my head. Hopelessly devoted to you.” He caught Gabu’s eye, who smiled encouragingly.

“Hopelessly devoted to you.”

As he sang, it occurred to Mei that Takkan had written this song shortly after Kuro-san had left. He hoped that, wherever the fox was, he wasn’t just sitting around and feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t hold out much hope.

“Hopelessly devoted to you.”

Mei was so distracted thinking about Takkan that he accidentally sang the first verse again instead of the second, which meant he had to start the song over from the beginning. The second time wasn’t as good as the first, but at least he got all the verses in the right order. If Takkan had still been in charge, he was sure he’d be singing it for a third time at least, but thankfully, Greta was more forgiving.

“I’m glad that more people came today than last time,” Greta said. They had finished for the day, and people were already starting to leave.

“I guess people are wanting a return to normal,” Mei said. “They must be getting bored with the celebrations by now.”

“It would certainly seem that way,” Greta said. “It’s a shame that, on the whole, Midwinter has separated us more than it’s brought us together. Except for Anything Day, of course, although even that wasn’t quite the forest-wide celebration I had hoped for. I just don’t understand why everyone is so insistent on spending time with their own species when they could be strengthening bonds with others.”

Jess walked up to them. “What’s wrong with spending time with your own species?” he said. “It’s not like the animals here have much chance to, most of the time.”

“Huh?” Gabu said. “Isn’t it a good thing that the groups have brought everyone together?”

“Of course,” Jess said. “But a species is more than just a group of animals who all look the same. There’s also…” he looked to Gon, “what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Cultural traditions,” Gon said in his deep, rumbling voice.

“I see what you mean,” Greta said, “but what’s wrong with sharing those traditions with people outside your species?”

Jess shrugged. “People can do that if they want. I’m not telling anyone they can’t.”

“But?” Mei prompted.

“But you can’t force them to,” Jess said. “If they want to celebrate on their own, the choice is theirs to make and yours to respect.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone what to do,” Greta said. Mei successfully disguised his snort of laughter as a cough. There was definitely not a leader of the Emerald Forest; Greta in particular was very clear about that. But if you asked anyone who the definitely not leader was, they would definitely say it was Greta.

“Let’s just let things take their natural course,” Mei said. “I’m sure things will work out the way they ought to in the end.”

“Agreed,” Greta said.

As they were walking back to Moonrise Hill, Mei took the time to admire how beautiful the forest looked in the snow. It was still an effort to think of the snow in positive terms, but he was getting better at it. They passed a fir tree, still green and alive despite the cold. Strands of frost hung from its needles, glistening and sparkling in the late afternoon light.

They crossed into the meadow. The snow here was deep and perfectly smooth, rolling over the ground like a warm coat, as if trying to keep it warm. It reminded Mei of the shelter of snow that had kept him alive in the near-fatal blizzard atop the mountain.

“Gabu,” Mei said, “do you want to play in the snow?”

Gabu looked at him in surprise. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Mei nodded. “I want to give it another try, just the two of us this time.”

“Well, okay.” Gabu smiled. “Let’s do it. What do you want to play?”

They played every game they could think of, from rolling around in the snow to chasing each other around the hill. They leapt through the air and landed with a ploomf sound in the deep, soft snow, which billowed up around them in clouds of white powder and drifted gently to the ground. They piled up lumps of snow and shaped them into a snowgoat, and then built a slightly larger snowwolf next to it. By the time they went inside to rest and warm up, the once pristine snow of the meadow had unaccountably become a complete mess.

“That was so much fun!” Gabu said as he shook the snow from his fur.

“I know,” Mei said, folding his legs beneath him. “I wish we’d done that sooner.”

“How come you’re not afraid of the snow anymore?”

“I guess I learned to face my fears,” Mei said, smiling out at the snowgoat he and Gabu had constructed. “Sometimes, they’re not as scary as you expect them to be, once you take the time to get to know them.”

“Huh?” Gabu said.

Mei replayed those last few words in his head. “Uh, once you face them head on, I mean.” He didn’t feel like explaining to Gabu about the other goat in his head, the one he still wasn’t quite sure was real or imaginary, but who was real enough to him that it probably didn’t matter. “I’m still a little bit afraid, at least sometimes, but I can deal with it now, since I know that I’m not facing it alone.”

“Of course you’re not alone,” Gabu said, licking Mei’s face affectionately.

“I know,” Mei said, licking Gabu back. “But even when you’re not around, I’ll still be there to tell myself that everything’s all right.”

Gabu looked confused by that for a moment, but then shrugged and smiled. He was used to not understanding things, and Mei wasn’t explaining it very well anyway, but that was fine. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better about it.”

“Me too,” Mei said.