First Snow
Title: "First Snow"
Author: mlady_rebecca ( mlady_rebecca @ livejournal . com )
Beta: Celeste (Thanks!!)
Fandom: Anita Blake
Type: Ficlet
Written: 11/01/2005
Disclaimer: I don't own any of LKH's wonderful characters. Just borrowing them for a few moments. For entertainment purposes only.
Rating: PG
Pairing: none
Spoilers: none
POV: third person
Description: A moment from childhood.
Archive: http://home.comcast.net/~mlady_rebecca/ab_fics.html
The suit was too stiff and the collar was too tight. Mother wanted him to stand and greet all the guests like a big boy. He was good. He stayed for a really long time - at least 10 minutes. But when Mother and Father stepped out on the front porch for a moment, he took the opportunity to escape.
As soon as he slipped into the servant's passageway he toed off his shoes. The jacket and tie were shed before he reached the warmth of the big kitchen. Margaret was stirring a big pot of soup on the stove. It made the room smell heavenly.
He paused in indecision as his stomach growled. Should he beg for a treat from Margaret, or take advantage of her inattention to slip out the back door? His curiosity got the best of him. The guests had whispered of the first snow of the season. He refused to be Mother's good little soldier when such adventure awaited.
He slid out the back door without being seen. The snow was indeed falling fast. Big wet flakes that quickly dampened his unruly blond locks, his tiny sock clad feet buried in the rising drift.
The air was crisp and the moon full. He scanned the nearby tree line for wildlife. He had heard the boys who took care of the horses whispering of wolves.
One more glance at the kitchen door and safety and he was off as fast as his tiny little legs could take him. He wasn't afraid of the big bad wolf.
A few steps away from the tree line, he paused as a chorus of howls broke the night air. He gathered his courage and was about to plunge head first into the woods when a strong hand gripped the back of his shirt easily lifting him up into the air.
He kicked and flailed but didn't cry out. He was a big boy. The masculine laugh brought his attention to his captor's face. It was Dr. Marcus, Father's friend.
"Dr. M, what are you doing out here? I didn't know you were coming to the party."
"I could ask the same of you, Master Jason. Time to return to the house. It's not safe ... you could catch your death from the cold."
Jason was quickly deposited on the back doorstep. Dr. M knocked on the kitchen door then vanished before Jason could turn around. The boy thought he saw a flash of golden fur at the tree line before Margaret dragged him inside, mothering him far more than his own mommy ever did.
Soon he was sitting by the window, wrapped in a blanket, drinking hot cocoa with extra marshmallows. Margaret's admonishments washed over him. He was too busy trying to wrap his five year old mind around the fact that Dr. M hadn't been wearing a stitch of clothing.