***The 'Snowed' Inn ***

[VanimaEdhel]

"Hamanullas! Come in!" Baranîn called from the outskirts of the snowball fight, "You will catch your death of the cold!"

"Not now!" Hamanullas called from behind a bank of snow, aiming a snowball at a boy nearby. She fired and hit the boy in the head. The girl ducked back down behind her snow fort. He looked around in confusion for a moment. Baranîn sighed and made her way back to the house.

"She won't come in, Mama," she said to her mother.

"Let her play," the older woman said, smiling from where she sat sewing.

"She has been out all morning, though," Baranîn said indignantly. "She did not even come in to greet Lothos and Narowyn when they came for breakfast."

"She's a child. Let her play," her mother said, "Remember what you were like?"

"Not like that," Baranîn said, disgruntled.

"Oh, yes you were. You were worse. It is only within that past year or two that you felt that it was your duty to stay at home."

"But, is that not how it should be?"

Her mother sighed, and looked up at her daughter, her eyes glittering a bit, "I do wish you would get out more, daughter. Go, meet someone. Maybe you will even find a friend. Your father and I are not old, you know. We can manage on our own."

"But Mama-" Baranîn began.

"Hush!" Mother said, going back to her sewing, "If you do not go out and enjoy yourself right now, I will spank you as though you were seven rather than seventeen."

Her mother's eyes continued to glitter with a youthful mirth. Baranîn stood for a second, then she went over to fetch her shawl. She put it up over her head, then went to the door. With one backward glance, she opened the door and went out. Mother smiled merrily as she continued to sew by the fire, humming a bit.

Once Baranîn was out in the streets, she looked around. She made her way, dodging the occasional snowball, to the White Horse Inn.

"You have not come to call me back in again?" came the incredulous voice behind her. She turned and saw little Hamanullas standing with her hands on her hips, looking absolutely mutinous.

"No," Baranîn said, "I-I figured I should get some air. And you really should go home soon. You will get ill."

The little girl laughed. She picked up a snowball and aimed it at Baranîn. Baranîn tried to warn her off, but before she could put up any adequate warnings or defenses, she felt the hard, cold, wet hit her on the cheek. She stood startled, her mouth hanging open in shock at her younger sister's audacity. Hamanullas looked at Baranîn with the same playful eyes that her mother showed just a few minutes ago. Finally, Baranîn could not keep her composure anymore. She burst out laughing, soon followed by Hamanullas.

"Come, little sister," she said, "I was going to go into the Inn. I will buy you something to drink. If I cannot convince you to leave the snow for the day, maybe I can convince you to spend an hour in the warmth with me."

She wiped the snow off of her face and dried herself with her shawl. Hamanullas came up to Baranîn eagerly and the older sister put her arm around the younger. Together they entered the Inn and sat at a table. They both ordered hot chocolate, but they waited for it to cool a bit before drinking it.

"Mama says that you were once as I now am," Hamanullas said over her hot chocolate.

"And how is that?" Baranîn asked, her voice muffled by her own mug.

"She said you used to have fun," Hamanullas said simply.

"And I do not do that now?" Baranîn asked, feigning offense.

"No."

Baranîn laughed. "I promise I will try to have more fun, in that case, all right?"

"Yes," Hamanullas said, with the innocent sincerity that younger children possess.

The two laughed and talking, sipping their hot chocolate and taking in the comfortable warmth of the Inn.