Evangeline woke early on the morning of the Festival of Lights. Frost curled around the edges of the solitary window in her small room, decorating the glass with intricate designs. Snow danced through the air, falling serenely to the white world below. Buried in her pile of blankets, Evangeline yawned sleepily, too warm to move. But her to-do list had grown dangerously long, and she only had a limited time to complete it.
Reluctantly, Evangeline wriggled in her blankets, attempting to extract herself from the tangle. She fell to the floor, a dull thump shaking the floor. She rolled out, shivering as the cold rushed in, seeping into her fur.
She stood. The wood beneath her paws creaked as she tiptoed over to her closet and removed her cloak, a plain navy blue with a high collar to protect her neck. Evangeline pulled it on, grateful for its warmth.
“EVE!”
Evangline turned around as the small cottage rang with the sound of her father’s voice. There was note of panic in his call, and Evangeline knew it could only mean one thing.
“Coming!” she called back, hastily wrapping a cream scarf around her neck. She stumbled in her haste out the door of the room, nearly crashing into the wall. Eve righted herself. She sped off, leaping down the stairs with an easy grace.
The living room was filled with a cloud of smoke. Eve coughed, her eyes watering and hastily pulling a scarf over her mouth. Fumes poured out from the kitchen, meaning only one thing.
Eve raced into the kitchen, where her father crouched in front of the oven. He coughed loudly, shoving his oven-mitted paws into the depths of the appliance. He yanked a metal tray from the smoky oven and threw in into the sink, where he promptly turned on the faucet. The metal hissed, sending up a cloud of steam. Eve’s father waved an oven mitt through the air, dispersing the black fumes. He turned toward the doorway, where Eve was standing with an expression of utmost horror on her face.
“Daaaaaaaad,” groaned Eve. “You were supposed to make cookies, not set the house on fire!”
Her father grinned.
“I was!” he said. He gestured to his apron, which was covered in soot and batter stains. “But it turns out I’m very easily distracted by the History of Ancient Rome.” His face brightened with a look Eve had seen more than a few times. “Did you know that they used contraptions called aqueducts to transport water all throughout the city? No technology, yet they were able to achieve something so complex!”
“Don’t forget the pyramids,” said Eve, snatching the oven mitts from her father’s paws. She reached deep into the sink and pulled the tray from it, dumping the charred lumps into the disposal. Her father shrugged, reaching over Evangeline to open the window.
“Now I’ll have to stay and make them myself,” said Eve ruefully. This would set her back hours, making the preparations for the Festival of Lights more complicated than usual.
"Nonsense!" said her father. "I can make them. You asked me to, and I have a duty to my daughter for almost burning down the house."
"But-"
"It almost sounds," said her Father skeptically. "As if you doubt my cooking ability." He stared at Eve with an eyebrow raised. Eve closed her mouth and sighed.
"Alright," she said after a moment. "I trust you. But," she added. "Don't. Get. Distracted.
Her father laughed.
"Got it," he said happily. He began to whistle, bustling about to begin again. "You go to do whatever you need to do. I have everything under control now."
Eve stepped away from the sink, watching him. Doubt attempted to worm its way into her mind, but she pushed it away. Her father would be fine.
"I won't have time to come back before the festival," she said, moving towards the door of the kitchen. "I'll have to meet you there." She turned back to face him. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
Her father turned to her.
"Yes," he said firmly. "Now, shoo. Professional Bakers need complete solitude to concentrate."
Eve bit back a laugh and hurried out of the kitchen. She pushed open the front door, and stepped out into the winter wonderland. A small sliver of sunlight peeked through the clouds, causing the snow to sparkle like thousands of diamonds. Icicles hung from the branches of trees, their boughs laden with snow. Evangeline shivered a small wind blew past, the cold nipping at her nose and cheeks. She pulled the rim of her scarf up over her face, and began to hike up the road.
The small town not far from their home was bustling with activity. Strings of lanterns hung between the houses, crisscrossing over the street. Christmas lights hung like icicles from the rooftops. All around her, viscets prepared for the evening festival, talking, laughing, and running around the town. Evangeline stepped around a group of visclings playing with a small ball, and headed towards her first destination.
A warm orange glow flooded from the quaint bakery, from the dissolution window and the door that had been propped open. Elegant cakes and pastries stood on pure white plates and stands, decorated with Christmas themed designs. Eve stepped towards the doorway, almost immediately assaulted with a blast of heat. She sighed in relief, and hurried into the warm shop.
The shop was clean and neat. Shelves lined the walls, and filled the room, filled to the bursting point with delicious treats. Viscets occupied the remaining space, gazing enviously at the sugary delights that the store provided. It was a tight fit, but Eve managed to push her way towards the counter, where the Baker was helping the only customer in line. They were helped quickly, departing with a paper bag clutched under their arm. Eve stepped up, greeted by the Baker's smile.
“Eve!” Said the Baker, grinning broadly. “How are you today?”
“Good,” said Eve warmly. “I hope you're well.”
“Of course I am!” The Baker clapped his paws together. “But I'm assuming you didn’t,t come to exchange pleasantries. What can I do for you?”
“I'm here to pick up an order for the Festival tonight,” said Eve. “I'm in charge of the desserts.”
“Ah,” said the Baker knowledgeably. “I’ll get that for you right away.” He turned on his heel, signaling for another Viscet to take care of the counter. Eve stepped to the side to let the next customers in line past, and waited.
She had to only wait for a few moments before the Baker came back.
“There are many boxes back there for the festival,” he said, frowning. “Do you want me to deliver them tonight? We are closing early so my employees can go.”
Eve opened her mouth to reply. Before she could say anything, a frantic voice filled her ears.
“Eve! Eve! EVE!”
Eve whirled around. A smaller Viscet pushed her way through the shop, attempting to get to Eve. Her expression was full of fear and shock, causing Eve's heart to sink.
“That would actually be great,” said Eve quickly to the Baker. “Thank you!”
She did not wait for his reply, but turned her attention to the newcomer. Sweat covered her forehead, and she was panting heavily.
“Lucy!” Said Eve, bending over. “What's wrong?”
Lucy's chest heaved as she struggled to speak.
“It's...” She panted. “The Festival...There's not enough... we don't... hurry.”
Eve did not waste any time. The crowd parted for her as she raced out of the shop. Snow flew. She skidded on the ice, racing to the sight of the Festival. A massive tent sat in the snow, decorated with a thousand lights. Eve raced through the flap of the tent, but halting at the scene before her.
A section of the tent had been torn away, revealing a white truck. The side of the truck bore a logo of a plate of food, with the words, “Baskerville Caterers” in golden letters. Viscets clustered around the edges of the tent, their faces filled with shock. Two viscets stood in front of the open end of the truck, yelling at each other so loudly, they could be heard from Eve's cottage. Eve flattened her ears, in an attempt to block the noise.
“What do you mean you're leaving?” Yelled one loudly. “You can't leave! We hired you to cater a party, not refuse to do your job!”
“You can't expect us to do this for free!” Shouted the other. “No money, no catering.”
“But,” said the first. “The entire village has been waiting for this for weeks. Do you really want to disappoint them?”
The second Viscet stared at her, his face full of fury.
“You can't pay us,” he said. “When they find out you can,t afford us, who's fault will it be? The one's who can,t provide, or the one's who are doing their job.”
“But that's just it!” Said the first one. Her paws were clenched, and she looked as if she were about to punch something. “You're not doing your job!”
“Hey!” Said Eve, cutting in. “Cut it out!”
The two looked over at her. The first one's face flooded with relief.
“Eve!” She said, clutching her chest. “Thank goodness! Now you can tell this buffoon that we need caterers and that he's being stupid,”
Eve opened her mouth, but then closed it again.
“Rose,” She said. “Is it true we can't pay them?”
“Yes, but-“
“There you go,” said the Second Viscet. “You can't pay us. I would love to make an exception, but it would be bad for business. Imagine how many more would try to get free services from us, if they knew that we had allowed it in the past?”
“You selfish-“ began Rose, but Eve cut her off.
“I'm sorry, Rose,” said Eve miserably. “But he's right.” She turned to the delivery Viscet. “I'm sorry we had to waste your time.” He nodded, and turned to close the truck.
“Wait!”
A new voice caught everyone's attention, causing them to look at the owner. A gray viscet stepped into the tent, wearing an expensive black suit, embroidered with red along the edges. Silence fell, as his gaze swept across the room.
“Is there a problem?” He asked calmly, surveying the scene.
“Yes, sir,” said Eve, stepping forward. “We hired caterers for the festival tonight, but it turns out we don,t have the funds to pay them.”
The Newcomer nodded, still studying the scene. He strolled over to the truck, gazing at the delivery person with curiosity.
“How well attended is this Festival?” He asked, staring at the van. “This looks like enough food to feed dozens of viscets.”
“Hundreds,” piped up Rose. “And they're all so excited for tonight. This is the biggest event of the year.”
The newcomer nodded.
“Unload the truck,” he said firmly. The delivery Viscet gaped at him.
“But,” he said weakly. “Who's going to pay us? They obviously don't have the funds for it.”
“I am.”
The crowd gasped. Eve felt her mouth fall open in shock. She shook her head in surprise, and ran over to the newcomer.
“You can't do that!” She said, grabbing his arm. “It’s too generous.”
“Nonsense,” he said, waving her off. “You shouldn't been the ones to disappoint an entire village.”
Eve could barely say anything.
“How can we thank you?” She said breathlessly. The gray Viscet grinned.
“You can thank me,” he said, a slight twinkle in his eye. “By saving me a seat at the dinner tonight. Food isn't worth this much troubled unless it’s really something.”
Eve grinned. “And who should I save this seat for?”
“Max,” said the newcomer. “Save it for Max.”
(1971 words)
