⏱ ~6 min reading
High above the clouds, where the sky turns a transparent blue and the air smells of frost and something distant, like the memory of a lullaby, a whole family of fairies lived.
There were thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Maybe a million—no one counted for sure. They were all sisters. And all of them were winter snow fairies.
Each of them had its own name and face. Because you know what the secret is? No snowflake in the world is like another. If you take a magnifying glass and look very, very carefully, you will see: one has six rays with stars, the second has twigs like a tiny maple leaf, the third has patterns like a small temple made of transparent glass.
The smallest of the sisters was called Snow White. She had petal-like wings, thin as a spider's web, and she shone from within with six sharp rays. Now all the sisters were preparing to fly.
"Today is your day," said the old Winter Queen, who ruled over all the snow in the sky. "The earth is waiting for you. Fly.".
“Where?” Snow Maiden asked quietly.
"Where the wind will blow me, my little one," smiled Zimnitsa. "Each snowflake has its place. You will recognize it.".
Snow Maiden nodded, hugged her closest sister, and stepped off the edge of the cloud.
Oh, how it was! The world opened up beneath her, huge, huge. The silver roofs of the houses. The dark ribbons of the roads. A park with bare trees stretching up their thin branches like hands. A frozen river that shone like glass. And above all this, a million of her little sisters were flying, circling, dancing.
Snow Maiden laughed. She flipped in the air. She did a "twirl" as Zimnytsia had taught her. The wind was gentle - it carried her, not pushed her, as if it knew that she was still very young.
And below, in the courtyard of a small house with a red chimney, stood a boy. He was wrapped in a blue jacket, a red scarf around his neck, and a hat with a pompom on his head. His face was turned up to the sky, his mouth was slightly open, and his eyes shone with the kind of joy that only children have when they see their first real snow.
The boy's name was Timko.
"Snow!" he shouted. "Mom, look, it's snowing!"
Snow Maiden saw him. And something in her little heart was touched. She stopped tossing and turning. She slowed down her flight. And quietly, quietly, like a petal, she landed—right on Tim's nose.
“Hello!” she whispered.
Timko froze. He felt something cold and light on his nose, like breath.
"Oh," he said quietly. And laughed. "Tickles!"
The snowflake laughed too - thinly, thinly, like a crystal bell. She was pleased - to be met. To be noticed. Out of a billion snowflakes, it was her, the little Snow Maiden, that this boy saw.
"I'm Snow White," she introduced herself. "What's your name?"
"Tymko," the boy replied in a whisper, because he was afraid that the guest's loud voice would make him fly away.
— Very nice, Tim.
"You're so... beautiful," said Timko, squinting slightly to get a better look at her. "You have six rays. Like a star.".
"I also have twigs on the rays," Snow Maiden added proudly. "I spun them myself while I was flying.".
They chatted for a minute, maybe two. Snow Maiden told how she had flown from the sky, at first it was scary, then it was exciting. She saw all the sisters scattered across the ground like stars. The wind smelled of frost and somewhere of warm smoke.
Timko listened, holding his breath. And then he told his own story. That he loved winter the most of all the seasons. That he would make dumplings with his mother today. That there was a cat named Murchik living in the barn, who didn't like snow and sneezed when it was sprinkled on him.
Snow Maiden listened and felt something strange was happening to her. Her rays became softer. Her middle became wet. Tymkov's nose was warm. Very warm - like a stove in a hut.
"Oh," she suddenly exclaimed. "Tymka! I'm melting!"
Timko froze. He squinted his eyes a little and saw: the little star on his nose had indeed become smaller. And even smaller. And now it was a drop. Tiny, transparent, trembling.
"No-no-no," the boy said worriedly. "Snow White, hold on!"
"Don't worry," the fairy whispered, her voice growing quieter. "I'm not disappearing. I'm just changing. Now I'll be a part of you. And of winter. And of this morning.".
“Will we see each other again?” Timko asked anxiously.
"Every time it snows," smiled Snow Maiden. "Look at the snowflakes carefully. Maybe one of them is my sister. Or maybe I am too. We fairies know how to melt in one place and be born in another. Because water is eternal.".
Timko nodded seriously, like an adult.
— I will not forget you.
— And I — you.
And the Snow Maiden, whose last sixth ray was still trembling, whispered faintly:
— Thank you for meeting me, Timka. Out of a billion, it's you.
A droplet fell from his nose onto Tymkov's glove. The damp spot glistened a little, as if a tiny spark still remained there.
Timko carefully wiped his nose with a handkerchief — not completely, just a little bit. Because he wanted to save a little.
When his mother called him to dinner, he came into the house—pensive, clear-eyed, quiet. He sat down at the table, ate a dumpling, then another. His mother noticed:
— Why are you so thoughtful, Tim?
"Mom," he said seriously, "I met a fairy today.".
— Yes? — Mom didn't laugh. Because she was wise. — And what's her name?
"Snow White. She sat on my nose. We chatted. And then she became a drop.".
Mom didn't answer. She just patted his head.
And outside it was raining again. Quietly, quietly. Snowflakes were landing on the road, on the bench, on the window. And it seemed to Tymko that each of them was smiling a little. Each one seemed to recognize him.
Because that's the secret of winter. Even the shortest encounters - for one minute, for one breath - leave a trace of warmth. Always.
✨ Even the shortest meetings leave a trace of warmth - forever ✨