Page 5 of The Midwinter Mirror
Milo is sitting huddled against one of the rocks, his arms around his one good knee, his broken leg stretched out in front of him, crutch still clutched in his left hand. He’s wearing blue pajamas with ponies on them under the jacket, and blue wellingtons.
For a moment, I think he's sleeping. Please be sleeping.
He's so still, and panic flares inside me. He can’t be… No. Not again. Not in this short time. Then he raises his head and staresat me with eyes full of loss and grief. What the hell happened to him?
I stumble, almost going to my knees as I step into the clearing. Ice prickles race across my skin. “Milo.” My voice splinters. “Are you all right?”
He just stares at me for a moment and then gives a big sniff. “They left me behind,” he says.
“Who left you behind? Who did you come here with, Milo?”
“The children. We followed the bells.”
God, not more freaking bells. I frown. There’s no one else around. “Which children?”
He doesn’t seem to hear the question, just stares into space with that tragic look on his face. “We heard them jingling in the night, calling to us, and we followed.”
He’s clearly been hallucinating or sleepwalking—
“And we came here, and we were supposed to go to a fabulous place. He promised.”
“Who promised?”
Again, he doesn’t answer. “And there would be amazing presents, much better than anything from here. Magical presents.”
Ugh. I hate that word.
He lets out a sob. “And I wanted to go with them so much, but I couldn't keep up. And by the time I got here, they were all gone.”
Sleepwalking. Has to be. Because I sure as hell don’t hear bells or see an army of invisible kids hiding out here. I listen, but there’s nothing but muffled silence. Maybe he's making this up. My little brother has a very fertile imagination.
“Are you okay, Milo? Are you injured? Does your leg hurt?”
“Yes. That’s why I couldn't keep up. I wanted to go so much, and now I'll never find them. And I’ll never get the magical presents.” He sobs again. “They left me behind.” He gazes up atme with imploring eyes. “Can you open the gate to the magical place, Holly?”
Grrr.“There is no magical place, Milo. How many times do I have to tell you that? There is no magic. Magic doesn't exist.”
“But it was real, Holly. I heard the bells. I followed, and they disappeared.”
I shake my head and hurry over, reaching out my hand to him.
He doesn't have his gloves on, and his little hand is freezing as he slides it into mine. “Come on, let's get you home,” I say. “We’ll have crumpets for breakfast.”
Which I know are his favorite, but he just stares up at me through tear-drenched eyes.
“Can you walk?”
He nods forlornly. “But maybe we should stay. Just a little while longer. Maybe the gate will open, and I can go with the other children.”
Crouching down in front of him, I brush the tears from his cheek. I tug off my mittens and gently put them on his hands, wrap my scarf around his neck, then tuck the crutch under his arm. I wish I could carry him, but he’s too heavy—he’s grown so much since I left home. And I don’t want to leave him to get help. We’ll just have to go slowly.
“Come on, we can make a snowman later. Once you’ve warmed up.”
He just glances back over his shoulder, longingly.
“How about we invite Tansy over? She can help with the snowman.” Tansy is his best friend; they’ve been besties since they were four years old.
“We can’t. Tansy’s gone. She went to the magical place.” Another sob. “I’ll never see her again.”
