Old Habits Die Hard

Chapter 5
It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

"Snegurochka!" the girl said again, making Justine cry all the harder. It would be more constructive to tell the girl she didn’t understand her, of course, but since the girl probably didn’t understand Justine, either, the whole thing just felt pointless. She supposed she was still better off in this place, just as long as she didn’t run into Pere Fouettard again - the pain flared up again just thinking of him - yet that thought didn’t make her feel much better.

What did help, however, was the next thing the girl said. "What’s wrong, Snegurochka?"

Justine looked up in surprise, sniffling, wiping her face with the sleeve of her robe. "Y-You can speak English?" she asked, trying to stop her tears.

The girl chuckled at her, not unkindly. "We speak every language," she told her, as if it was common knowledge. Instead of explaining it, however, she moved on to an even more startling statement - "I haven’t seen you in so long!" - following it with a hug.

After her night, Justine did need a hug, but getting it from a stranger, somehow convinced they knew each other, wasn’t quite what she had in mind. She should have just calmly explained that; instead, she wailed, "Why does everybody think they know me today?!", pulling away, crying again. She told herself it was just her juvenile body running away with her emotions, but she was sure that, even if she’d been the right age, she would have been upset. "People breaking into my house, dragging me off to the middle of nowhere, switching me! I just want to go home!"

She felt a light tug at the sleeve of her robe, and then there was silence for a moment. "You... aren’t Snegurochka?"

"Is that even a name? It sounds like a disease or something!"

"Oh... Dear. This isn’t good." Through her hazy, tear stained vision, she saw the girl sink down onto the seat beside her. "I was hoping you’d know what was going on. Something isn’t right... But if you aren’t her, and you’re here... Well, that isn’t right, either. And you got into my sleigh. That shouldn’t be possible. Oh, this is a mess..."

Justine sniffed, clearing her face again. "Y-You’re telling me," she said, managing to crack a small smile at the girl. She was small, all right, barely bigger than Justine was now, and almost impossibly thin. She looked as delicate as a snowflake, like she would melt away if Justine so much as touched her. While Ded Moroz and Pere Fouettard could have passed as normal people at a glance, there were definitely something otherworldly about this girl, something in her eyes that wasn’t quite human, with ears that pointed too much, fingers that were too long. "My name’s Justine," she continued. "Not Sneg... Whatever you said."

"Well, little one, I am Kolyada." The girl smiled at her, though her expression darkened slightly when she saw no hint of recognition in Justine’s face. "You aren’t from around here, are you?"

Justine shook her head. "Like I said, I was brought here by some... Ded Moroz, something like that."

Kolyada froze. "You’re sure that was him?" Justine nodded. "Today, he did this?"

"Yeah," Justine nodded, "like, a couple hours ago. Why?"

"Ded Moroz has been gone for many years," Kolyada said. "He was banished, with the others, by Saint Nicholas."

"Wait, what? Santa Claus?" She began to scoff, to say that Santa wasn’t real, before her mind could remind her of everything she’d seen. Instead, she asked, "He banished him?"

Kolyada nodded. "A long time ago. He decided Christmas was a place for happiness, and not fear."

"But.. Ded Moroz might have kidnaped me, but he seemed nice enough... He gave away lots of presents, and..."

"Now," Kolyada shook her head. "He wasn’t always like that." She reached into her robe, taking out a canteen like the one Ded Moroz had, drinking from it nervously. "I wonder if Saint Nicholas knows about this..."

"Could I have a sip of that?" Justine asked. "I’m a little thirsty..." Kolyada hesitated, then handed it over. Feeling probably a little more offended than was really warranted by that, Justine considered drinking it all, but after guzzling down several mouthfuls, it didn’t seem any emptier.

"I think I’d better get you home," Kolyada told her, taking back the canteen, fingers stroking Justine’s robe again as she did. "Oh, you’re soaked! Maybe we’d better find you something else to wear first..." Justine wasn’t going to say no to that, even if she didn’t feel cold - in fact, she felt even warmer after that last drink. "Oh, and you don’t have any shoes on, either! You poor dear!"

"Is there some place you can get clothes around here?" It seemed a little bizarre to think there would be a clothes store in this place, not least of all because she hadn’t seen a single one while out with Ded Moroz, but Kolyada surely knew better than her.

She nodded. "I’m sure we’ll find something around here." She eyed Justine up and down, a brief glint of surprise in her eyes quickly suppressed. "Just have to find the right size..."

"And... Well, while I really appreciate what you’re doing, I kinda need to find Ded Moroz again before I get home. I need him to... Fix something." Justine blushed slightly, not wanting to admit her predicament. This girl might be able to help her, sure, but, on the other hand, she might not, either, and having found yourself suddenly nearly a decade younger than you were supposed to be was kind of an embarrassing problem. Plus, after the way she’d been acting, she didn’t exactly want to admit that she was any older than she looked.

"That’s a very bad idea, little one. Whatever you need, I’m sure Saint Nicholas will be able to take care of, once he has everything all straightened out. Ah, here we go!" The sleigh floated higher into the air, and then across the street, hovering outside a second story window that Kolyada pushed open easily. There were no lights on inside, but the streetlamps seemed bright enough that she’d be able to see.

Even though she wanted some actual clothes, Justine had to admit this felt a little too much like she really was the burglar Megan had mistaken her for. "Are you sure this is okay?"

Kolyada nodded. "This room doesn’t belong to anybody. It’s a room they wish they needed, so it’s been created here, and filled with clothes, and furniture, but they’ll never miss a little of it. It will vanish when you go back to your world, but we’re going to make sure you’re back in your own room before that happens, so it’ll be all right, yes? Now, do you need some help?"

"No, I think I can handle it," Justine scoffed, before blushing again and squeaking out a, "Sorry. I-It’s been a long night."

Kolyada smiled gently at her. "That’s all right, dear. Go on, then."

Justine went to stand up, only to be greeted by the rather disorienting realizing that there was no longer a sleigh floor directly beneath her feet. Her heart started pounding again, and she nervously looked down at herself, finding that she had shrunk again. Her lip quivered, gave her just enough incentive to hop down - the first tear came at just how far down that was - and hurrying towards the open window, scrambling inside, her robe trailing after her like a wedding gown. She stumbled on it, ignored Kolyada inquiry about whether or not she was okay, and scurried further inside the room, hoping she was far enough away that the girl couldn’t hear her crying yet again.

The robe was far too long for her now, and refused to stay shut without her holding it, so, in frustration, she let it go, let herself step out of it. If she were less upset, she would have been mortified at being naked in some strange house, especially when there was somebody who could very well be watching her. She kept stumbling until she had landed in front of a large, ornate mirror. In it, staring back at her, was a little girl. The lanky pre-teen she had been was gone, her body now small, slightly pudgier, remnants of baby fat still holding on stubbornly, her face rounder, more innocent looking, especially with her red-rimmed eyes still flowing with tears.

She had been wrong - she must have been. It wasn’t Ded Moroz who had done this to her, or even Pere Fouettard. It must have been the world itself. She wasn’t meant to be here, and this was what was happening to her because of it. She had to get home, and fast! But all she really wanted to do was plop down on the floor and keep sobbing.

"No!" she demanded, her voice sounding higher pitched, squeakier, though she was sure at least some of that was psychological, from seeing herself as she was. She curled her little hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms, fighting her anger with pain. "Stop it," she hissed at herself. She didn’t have time to waste like this. She needed to find herself something to wear, quickly, and then get back on that sleigh and get home. That was all that mattered.

She stared back into the mirror sadly, only then managing to look beyond herself, to see the rest of the room behind her. Quickly, the anger at her situation was replaced by a more concentrated vintage, one aimed at someone specific. She marched back towards the window, grabbing up the robe - feeling only then just how wet it was from all the snow she’d trekked through - and holding it against her body. "This isn’t funny!" she called out, not even thinking about whether the residents of the house could hear her, though she doubted they could, since she was apparently in a place that didn’t really exist. "I’m not going to find anything to wear in a nursery!"

There was no answer. In fact, as she got closer to the window, she realized that she couldn’t see the sleigh outside. "Kolyada?" she asked nervously, slowing down slightly. "Kolyada, are you out there? You better not have left me here!" But even when she got right to the window, there was nothing there. "No!" she screamed angrily, stomping her foot. "You freaky little bitch!" It was then that she happened to look down. There, on the ground, she saw the remnants of one of the sleigh’s runners, shattered, scattered across an unusually high mount of snow. "Kolyada?" she breathed.

Between the house she was in and the next, a shadow stirred, a shadow with what seemed to be a hump on its back, and long horns on its head. Justine gasped and ducked back inside the room, clamping a hand over her mouth, now too scared to even consider crying.