Animorphs: *Snow*

[Lady Cosmos]

*Snow*

Chapter One – Cassie

I took the ornament from its wrapper and held it for a long time. I blew on it and gently dusted it off with my fingers. But as tears pooled in my eyes, I shook my head and re-wrapped it. There would be no tree this year. Why did Rachel do this? I wondered. I told her not to.

"Rachel, I’m not celebrating Christmas this year," I’d insisted that afternoon after she’d come sporting several sprigs of holly and two fresh evergreen wreaths, that were, at the moment, the only hints of any holiday cheer in my house.

"Yes, you are," Rachel replied firmly, shoving her eighteen-month-old daughter, Loren, into my arms. And she’d crawled up into the attic and lugged everything down herself, though her six-months pregnant frame made it difficult. Then she’d popped in a Christmas carol CD and made hot cider, full blast in her "you’ll enjoy this if it kills you" mode.

Now I looked at the boxes full of Christmas and Hanukkah surrounding me and felt my throat close up, that painful feeling that had become so familiar over the last 365 days. I sometimes had the irrational thought that eventually the lump would become solid, a cancerous growth in my throat, and I would actually die of grief.

December 24th. In five hours, it would be a year. Exactly a year. I wanted to stay home and curl up and cry, but I couldn’t. I had to pick up Ax from the landing base. With the others all married, I was the only one with room for him when he came home. I checked the clock and sighed, pulling myself off the couch and dragging myself out to the car.

I slid in the driver’s side and stared at the dashboard. I hated that car. I hated all cars, actually. A necessary evil. I turned the ignition and backed out of the driveway.

"Merry Christmas!" one of the neighbors gushed, walking by.

I gave a mechanical smile and wave, going through the motions. "Merry Christmas," I replied automatically.

Auto-pilot. The whole last year had been done on auto-pilot.

I drove through town carefully. It was a raw, gray day. The sun was hiding and there wasn’t any snow, but it had rained early this morning and there were lots of icy patches. I sighed, thinking that if we had to have cold weather, it could at least snow. Jake loved snow, especially during the holidays. I swallowed. Gotta get rid of that perpetual lump.

Red light. I glided to a stop. Same intersection, I realized. The car had come up that street on the left, too fast. Red car. Mustang. Too fast.

Someone’s horn blared and I started, registering the green light for the first time. I put my foot on the gas, holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckled death grip.

There weren’t any other incidents on the way to the landing base. I parked and got out, zipping my parka up all the way, and clutching the heavy coat I’d brought for Ax.

His ship was on time. I stared out one of the windows, watching the huge silver Dome ship land. The mixed Andalite/human crew disembarked, the shivering figures hurrying across the wind-whipped asphalt to the main building. I perched on one of the window sills and waited, knowing he’d be a few minutes. Ax was a prince now, and he’d have to see to a few things before he could get away.

I sighed, and my breath fogged up the window. Part of me was glad Ax was staying with me for Christmas, because it’d give me something to think about. But another part of me wanted this time to myself. Why? I thought self-deprecatingly. So I can wallow in self-pity? That was certainly not something I needed to worry about around Ax. If there’s one thing Andalites don’t have a tolerance for, it’s wallowing.

They do, however, understand grief.

"Cassie?" I heard. I turned away from the window.

"Hi, Ax," I said, standing up. I gave him a hug. I hadn’t seen him for several years. The human morph he was in was about twenty-five – not the original, of course, but a new one that lacked the disturbingly pretty cast to his features. He had curly hair, light brown skin, dark eyes with long lashes, and a thin, athletic body, which was dressed in jeans and a too-thin T-shirt.

"Do you like my morph?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah," I said. "Where did you get it?"

"A few of the male human crew members agreed to allow me to acquire them. I then performed a simple Frolis maneuver, just as I did with my first human morph."

"Oh," I said. I held out the coat. "Here. You’ll need this. It’s freezing out."

"Yes, I noticed." He slipped the coat on expertly, almost like he’d been born a human. "Thank you."

"Are you ready?"

He nodded. We hurried to the car because the wind was really starting to pick up and I unlocked the door with clumsy fingers. After I turned the ignition we just sat there for a few minutes, trying to get warm again.

"I appreciate you allowing me to stay with you while I am on leave," Ax said.

"No problem. By the way, Tobias and the others wanted to be here to meet you, but it’s Christmas Eve and everything, so they had family stuff."

"I understand. I remember Christmas from my years on Earth. I’m afraid I never understood the deeper concept, but I am aware that it has an underlying tone of familial unity."

"Yeah." We were driving now, and completely avoiding the "elephant in the back seat." "Speaking of families, how are your parents?" I asked.

"Very well," he said. There was an awkward pause. Finally he said in a low voice, "Cassie, I want you to know how saddened I was to hear of Prince Jake’s death. I am very sorry I was not able to be here for the burial ceremony."

"Thanks," I replied roughly, my voice cracking slightly. "I got your communications."

"Tonight is the one year anniversary, is it not?"

I gulped and nodded, trying to keep the tears out of my eyes.

Ax was silent. "I am sorry," he whispered. "I should have realized . . ."

"It’s okay," I said quickly.

[Lady Cosmos]

Chapter Two – Ax

Cassie and I did not speak on the way to her home. I silently berated myself for not having been more astute, and she concentrated on driving.

We reached her house and went inside. The site of several brown cardboard boxes strewn around the living room greeted me. "I’m sorry there’s no tree," she said, throwing her small bag and keys on the table. "I just didn’t feel up to it this year."

"That is understandable," I said. Tree? I thought, confused, and then remembered that there was a special tree connected with this human holiday, an evergreen, often coniferous variety that they decorated with shiny, colorful objects. Christmas, I recalled, was a very colorful holiday in general, though it also had a religious aspect. Something connected to a human infant in a barn. Very strange even for humans, I thought.

"You want some cider or something?" Cassie asked. "Rachel made some earlier."

"Yes, please." I sat in one of the chairs at the table in her kitchen. "It is nice not having to be concerned with a time limit," I remarked, attempting to "make conversation," as the humans say. Since my last visit, Andalite scientists had discovered the reason and solution to the problem of the two-hour morphing time, something that did me little good in my current job, but made my stay on Earth much easier. I would be without my stalk eyes and tail for the next week.

"Yeah," she said, bringing over two steaming mugs of a translucent brown liquid. "Especially for Tobias and Rachel.

Careful, it’s hot."

I nodded, setting my cup down to cool. Human tongues are easily burned. "How are they?" I asked.

"Very well. Rachel’s due in three months."

"Do they know if the child is a male or a female?"

Cassie shook her head in the negative. "They want to be surprised."

"And how is Marco?"

"He’s . . . he’s Marco," she said with a short laugh. "He and Carrie are fine." Carrie was Marco’s wife. I had not met her yet.

"No children?"

"Not yet. And, he always says, ‘Not for lack of trying.’" She shook her head again. I smiled.

"And how are you?" I asked, finally sipping the cider.

"I’m holding it together. It’s just rough, this time of year."

"Yes, I imagine it would be. I am so very sorry."

"I’m glad you’re here," she said distantly after a few moments of silence.

"So am I," I said. "And I will do anything I can to help."

"Thanks, Ax," Cassie replied, suddenly embracing me tightly. "Thanks."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My eyes opened.

Where am I? I thought groggily, shaking my head. Then I remembered – Cassie’s home, in her guest bedroom. I sat up in the dark, untangling the blankets and sheets from around my human legs and blinked. What had awakened me? I had been very tired and had gone to bed before Cassie, but the clock read 2:20 AM – much too late (or early) for her to be awake.

I left my bedroom, slipping quietly across the wooden floor. My hooves would have made a loud noise, but human feet are soft and usually enclosed in hard "artificial hooves," as I once called them. Shoes, as humans say. However, when they sleep, humans are normally barefoot, as I was this night.

I slipped down the stairs, feeling the chilly air on my bare arms and legs, devoid of any fur. I passed by a window and realized it was covered in frost, so it must indeed be very cold outside. The dining room was dark, as was the kitchen. However, I noticed a faint light from under the living room door and cracked it open slightly.

Inside, there were two candles lit. Cassie sat on the floor, facing the candles. She was not crying, simply staring at them. I thought perhaps she had not noticed me, and I turned to creep away, feeling like an intruder. But then she spoke, softly. "It was my fault, you know."

"What?" I asked, startled.

"Jake dying. It was all my fault."

I opened the door and crossed over to sit beside her on the floor. She did not look at me, continued to simply stare at the dancing flames. "Cassie, it was not your fault."

"I was driving," she replied. "Do you know how it happened? The details?"

Tell her yes, I thought. Spare her the pain of having to tell you. But I could not lie to her. "I know that there was a car crash," I whispered gently.

She was silent, and I thought that perhaps she would not tell me. The wind howled and I heard the sound of ice against the windows. In the candle light, I saw that she had begun to cry. "Cassie," I said. "You should go to sleep."

"It was so stupid," she said, ignoring me. "We should have died in the war, you know. We should have been killed, so many times. But we weren’t. And then the Andalites came and the Yeerks were defeated and the alliance between Andalites and humans was formed and life was so good for awhile. It was normal again. He and I were talking about kids." Her voice choked on the last syllable, but she swallowed and continued, determined.

"We were coming home from my parents’ house. We’d had Christmas dinner with them. It was late. Jake’d had a couple of drinks, so I drove. We were supposed to go over to his parents’ house in the morning, to open presents with Tom and his family." She wiped her eyes.

"Cassie, you don’t have to – "

"Yes, I do," she said, looking at me for the first time. She returned her gaze to the candles. "We got to an intersection and we had a green light. I went across without looking. It was snowing and I wasn’t paying attention, because Jake . . . because Jake had just said that he wanted to . . ." She paused and stifled a sob. By now, my own eyes were flooded with tears, as I realized that she had relived that night, and the decision not to look before entering the intersection, every day for a year. "Jake had just said that he wanted to build a fire when we got home and make love to me in front of it. He wanted to conceive our first child that night . . . So I wasn’t paying attention.

"Suddenly, there was the sound of tires skidding on our right and Jake gasped. I turned my head in time to see a red Mustang come barreling out of a side street. It slammed into the passenger side door. He was dead before he knew what happened. I broke my arm. The other driver had whiplash." She shook her head, and with barely-contained sobs finished, "The other driver had a blood alcohol level of 0.2. Twice what he should have had while driving." She finally broke down, burying her face in her hands.

"Cassie," I managed through my own tears. I tried to comfort her by putting my hands on her shoulders. Humans like to be touched when they are upset. And Cassie was almost hysterical.

She turned and flung herself at me, burying her face in my shoulder. "Why, Ax?" she sobbed. "I don’t understand this. Why did he live through the war only to die like that? It was so dumb. If I’d only looked . . ."

"Cassie, you can’t blame yourself," I said.

"Why not? I could have prevented it!"

"You don’t know that," I said desperately. I wrapped my arms around her, and held her as sobs wracked her body. Cassie had always been small, but now I noticed a frailty in her body that I had never seen before. She cried and cried and I just held her, not quite sure what to do. Gradually, her sobs faded, until she lay in my arms, limp and exhausted. I glanced outside and saw that it was turning gray, with the first light of dawn showing in the east. Morning. I looked down and saw that Cassie had cried herself to sleep.

I blew out the candles, gently lifted her into my arms and carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom. I placed her on the bed and covered her with the blankets. She stirred and opened her eyes. "Is it morning?" she asked.

"It is almost morning," I replied.

"We’re supposed to go over to Tobias and Rachel’s at nine." Her eyelids drooped.

"We have four more of your hours," I assured her.

She attempted to smile. "They’re everyone’s hours," she admonished me. I smiled back at her, and rose to my feet to leave.

She caught my hand. "Please don’t leave me," she pleaded faintly.

I nodded, and sat down on the edge of her bed. She moved over and I realized that she wished for me to lie beside her. I did not argue. I, too, was exhausted from the outpouring of emotion that had been done that night. Cassie was not the only one who had grieved for Prince Jake.

I lay with my back to her, under a brightly colored quilt I found folded at the end of the bed. For several minutes in the dark, I listened to Cassie’s slow, even breathing. Finally, I rolled over and placed one of my human arms around her, linking my fingers with hers. I closed my eyes and wondered why I’d never realized how wonderful the scent of her hair was.

[Lady Cosmos]

Chapter Three – Cassie

When I awoke, I found Ax lying next to me, sound asleep. He had pulled the patchwork quilt at the foot of the bed over himself, and held one of my hands loosely in one of his. I rubbed my eyes, remembering the night before and sighed. I had lost it so badly in front of Ax, just bawled. I was suddenly embarrassed . . . and, I realized, glancing at the clock, very, very late.

"Ax, wake up!" I said, shaking his shoulder. "It’s ten o’clock."

"What?" he mumbled, sitting up.

"We were supposed to be at Rachel and Tobias’s an hour ago!"

"Huh?" he responded, still not awake. "Oh," he added, finally beginning to put things together.

"Yeah. Go take a shower. I’ll call Rachel and tell her we overslept. And remember not to turn the hot water on full blast this time." Ax had taken a shower the night before and almost scalded himself. I got up and put on my bathrobe.

"Cassie," Ax said as I hurried down the stairs.

"Yes?" I said, turning to face him.

He paused. "Merry Christmas. Is that what humans say on this day?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Merry Christmas, Ax."

We drove to Rachel’s in silence except for the sound of the windshield wipers – there was a freezing rain that day. It seemed we were getting every sort of cold weather except the one I wanted so badly. I think both Ax and I felt uncomfortable with last night, with the amount of emotion we had shown each other. And waking up with him this morning . . . just thinking about that made me fidget nervously. In all my life, I had slept with only one person – Jake.

Well, it’s not like we did anything, I told myself and tried to laugh it off mentally. But I couldn’t. And that bothered me more than anything else, that I couldn’t shake off the guilty feeling as something ridiculous.

I pulled into the driveway behind Rachel and Tobias’s minivan. Ax helped me lug the bag of presents out of the back seat and up the walkway to the house. "Hey!" Rachel cried, running out in jeans and a sweatshirt. "Merry Christmas!" She quickly kissed Ax on the cheek. "Welcome home." She gave me a hug. "How’re you doing?" she whispered in my ear.

"I’m okay," I replied, not entirely truthful, of course. "Last night was rough, but Ax helped me through it."

"Really?" she said, not able to hide the surprise in her voice. Having overheard this, Ax looked somewhat indignant. "No, no, Ax," she said hurriedly. "It’s just . . . oh, never mind. Come on in, you guys. We have hot chocolate and tea and coffee and Tobias is making eggs. Marco and Carrie are here, too."

"Sorry we’re late," I said apologetically.

"No worries," Rachel replied cheerfully, leading us into the house.

We walked in and were greeted by the smell of coffee and frying bacon. "Cat-tee!" I heard and saw Loren running from the living room where she’d been playing with a new toy by the tree.

"Hey, Loren!" I said, picking her up. "Did Santa come to your house last night?"

"Yup!" she said excitedly. "New dolly!"

"Loren, I want you to meet someone. This is Ax," Rachel said.

"Hello, Loren," Ax said.

"Hi, Ackth," Loren replied shyly.

"Hey, Ax-man!" Marco said, appearing in the kitchen doorway. "Good to see you!"

"Hello, Marco," he said.

"Hi, Ax," Tobias said. He hugged him. "Been too long."

"Yes," Ax agreed, "it has been far too long."

"Is breakfast ready?" Rachel asked Tobias.

"Just about," he said. Just then a timer went off. "And there’re the rolls. Everything’s ready."

We sat around Tobias and Rachel’s dining room table. "Sure is nice to be able to look at breakfast again," Rachel remarked, referring to the terrible morning sickness she’d had for the first three months of her pregnancy.

"Sure is nice to have everyone together again," Marco said, grinning.

There was an awkward silence.

"It’s okay, Marco," I finally said, staring at the steaming food on my plate, suddenly slightly nauseated.

"I’m so sorry, Cass," he said, sounding very upset. "I just – it feels like he’s here. Like he’s going to come in that door and ask why we started without him."

"I always feel like that," I said roughly. I cleared my throat. "Will you all excuse me?" I got up and hurried out of the room, wiping my eyes even as I went.

"I will – " I heard Ax say.

"No," Rachel interrupted. "I’ll go."

I went into her living room and sat on the couch, tears streaming down my face. But the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach wasn’t one of pain and overwhelming grief. Over the past year, I’d grown used to that – I could handle that, almost. But instead, it was a rock of guilt that made me want to throw up.

Rachel sat next to me and put her arm around me. "It’s okay," she whispered.

I shook my head. "No," I said, sniffling.

Rachel paused, as if she was sensing something. Finally, she turned me around to face her. "Cassie," she said slowly. "What happened?"

"Last night . . ." I began, and stopped. "Last night, I was downstairs at like 2:30 in the morning. I’d lit Jake’s menorah because it was the second night of Hanukkah, and I was just staring at the flames, thinking about everything, not even crying really. I guess . . . I don’t know why, but Ax woke up and came downstairs and he found me. And I started crying and telling him everything about the accident, and he was so sweet to me. I fell asleep in his arms and he carried me upstairs and put me to bed. I woke up and asked him not to leave me and so he just fell asleep next to me." I paused and looked away because Rachel was staring at me. I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand. "Nothing happened, of course," I said. "But I feel so guilty."

"Like maybe you wanted something to happen?" she asked.

"No!" I said instantly. But then I thought about it, and whispered, "I don’t know. Maybe."

"Cassie, it’s okay, you know. You have to move on. You can’t grieve forever."

"I know."

"Look, let’s go eat breakfast and open gifts. I’ll make up some eggnog and we’ll sit around all day and by the time you go home you’ll feel better. You can even stay here tonight, if you’d like."

"That’s okay. Thanks, though."

"No problem. C’mon. Time to get some Christmas spirit."

I laughed as I stood up. "You sound like a bad greeting card."

Rachel grimaced and placed her hand over her stomach. "It’s the hormones."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rachel was right. By the time Ax and I left that evening, I felt much better, but I knew Ax was concerned about me. When I’d come back into the kitchen, he’d leaned over discreetly. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I’m okay," I replied. He hadn’t looked convinced. And he wasn’t convinced now.

I let us into the darkened house. "I’m going to bed," I said with a tired sigh.

"I shall as well," Ax said. "Are . . . are you certain you are feeling all right?"

"Yeah, Ax. I’m fine," I said. "Well, not really fine. But I’m dealing with everything okay."

He nodded. "Good night then."

"See you in the morning."

I undressed and slipped on a nightshirt. I crawled into bed and curled up, listening to the wind howl and whip the trees around outside, scraping one of the branches against the window. I reached over and turned on the electric blanket, something I’d bought in February, probably thinking somewhere deep in my mind that it would make the nights easier. It hadn’t. I shivered despite the blankets and the heat.

About two hours later, around one in the morning, I finally got up, turned off the electric blanket and padded out of my bedroom. At the end of the hallway, outside the guest bedroom, I paused. There was a light on, to my surprise. I knocked lightly.

"Enter," Ax said, his voice strong and commanding.

"Ax?" I said, opening it slightly.

He glanced up. "Ah . . . I apologize, Cassie. For a moment, I mistook my location. I believed I was on my Dome ship."

I smiled uncertainly. "No problem." I came in and perched on his bed. "I couldn’t sleep."

"Nor could I."

"What are you reading?"

He showed me the cover. "Magician: Master. Raymond Feist. Interesting," I remarked.

He made an odd face. "It is extremely illogical. But well-written and imaginative. I am enjoying it."

I nodded. "Scootch over." Wordlessly, he moved over and I crawled in beside him.

"I believe that this is a mistake," he said as I leaned back against the pillows.

"Probably," I sighed.

"Cassie, I . . ." he started, and fell silent.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

"It is very cold tonight," he answered evasively.

I reached over and took his hand. "Ax?"

"Yes?" he replied hesitantly.

"I don’t want you to . . . I just want you to hold me." My voice cracked again and I was forced to swallow and blink back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "Look, I’m not ready for . . . well, you know what I’m talking about. But, I need you. I need what you gave me last night."

His hesitation vanished. He pulled me close and held me, reaching over with one arm to put his book on the night stand and turn off the light. I felt his heart beating through the sweatshirt he was wearing. I turned in his arms to face him, and reached up to touch his face, a gesture I knew was the Andalite equivalent of kissing. He gently touched his lips to mine, and then to my forehead. I buried my face in his chest. "How is it I never looked at you like this while you were on Earth before?"

"Because you loved Prince Jake," he replied softly. "If he were still alive, you would not ‘look at me like this’ now."

"You’re not a replacement."

"Of course not. But you did love Prince Jake. And he was my prince. I could never have betrayed him, nor did I ever feel the urge to."

I nodded, tipping my head back to look into his deep, brown eyes. "I think I love you. I didn’t think I’d ever love anyone besides Jake."

He didn’t reply, simply tightened his grip around my waist.

[Lady Cosmos]

Chapter Four – Ax

The next morning, I arose before Cassie and crept down to her kitchen. I brewed some coffee – a hot, dark human drink with a pleasant, pungent odor, and the only human food I knew how to make – and took two cups up to the guest room. I set one on the table beside her side of the bed, and watched her sleep, curled up beneath the quilt. I sipped my coffee and waited for her to awaken.

How did this come to pass? I wondered, mentally reviewing the events of the last thirty-six hours, as well as events from my time on Earth. Had there been any indication, I thought, or foreshadowing of this possibility? Cassie had been my friend, true, closest to me after Tobias, my shorm. She had often helped me when I was troubled by deeper philosophical or moral issues. She had comforted me when I was homesick, and cared for me. But Cassie possessed such a maternal nature that I had thought nothing of it. She had treated everyone that way, even Marco, who usually resisted it. But Prince Jake had been the one for whom she felt a special affection. She had loved Prince Jake since before I knew them. She still loved him – and always would. I was in love with her, I knew that, had fallen in love with her in the short time I’d been with her this past day and a half – or had it begun before? I could not know for certain – but I did not know if she would ever love me the way she had Prince Jake, or even if I wanted her to. Perhaps that love should be reserved for once in a person’s life, and if that was the case, I wanted her to have loved Prince Jake like that. I wanted her to know that I did not desire to take his place. I had loved him as well, as my prince and as my friend.

Coming to a decision, I opened my small travel-bag and rifled through my possessions, searching for a particular object. Finally, I found it in a small box, concealed and protected in a side pocket. Clutching it in my human hand, I returned to my position by the bed.

At last, Cassie stirred and lifted her head. "Coffee?" she mumbled.

"Good morning," I said, coming to sit beside her on the bed.

"Good morning." She reached for her mug and sipped. "Hey, this is good. Where’d you learn how to make coffee?"

I shrugged. "One of the human officers on the ship instructed me. It is simple."

She nodded. "Thanks."

We were silent for a few moments. The harsh wind of the night before had died down. Finally, I said, "Cassie, I have something to tell you."

She looked at me. "What?" she asked when I did not continue.

I paused, attempting to formulate my words correctly, in a way that would not frighten her. "I am tired of the military," I finally said. "It is a rare prince such as Jake who truly knows how to lead. I am tired of people who give orders simply to give them. And . . . with the human/Andalite alliance, there is now free travel between Earth and my home world."

"What are you saying?" Cassie asked quietly.

"I am saying that I am thinking of retiring. I was considering it even before now. I do not want to live on the home world. I . . . I do not fit in there anymore. I love my parents, and I want to remain in contact with them, but I wish to live on Earth."

She reached over and took my hand. "Ax, I love you, but I’m not ready to remarry. And I don’t want you to give up your career for me."

"I realize this," I said. "Everything has happened so quickly in the last two days. I am not giving up my career for you. As I said, I was considering retiring even before now. But when you are ready to marry again, I want to be there." She said nothing. "I love you," I whispered. "Please, say you will marry me. Not now, but someday."

She looked away from me. "I can’t ask you to do this. I don’t know how long it will be."

"I can be patient. I shall wait." Slowly, I took her hand, and held it up, studying her long brown fingers. "I never gave you a Christmas gift."

She looked surprised at the change in subject. "No," she said. "But that’s fine."

I shook my head. "I want you to have something." I unclenched my fist and revealed what I held – a small circlet of gold with emeralds set within it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I suppose you would call in a promise ring. It is a family heirloom. Metals and gems are rarely used on my world for non-military purposes now, but this ring is quite old, dating back more than one hundred and fifty years to before we possessed space weapons technology. It is rare."

"I can’t accept this," she said instantly, handing it back. "It is beautiful, but I cannot accept it."

"There is a story behind this," I continued, unabashed. I had expected her to refuse, at least at first. "My great-great- grandfather and grandmother came from two different cultures in a time when Andalites were still concerned over petty physical traits like fur color. They fell in love, but the union was forbidden by their parents. To separate them, his parents sent him into the military, which at the time was primarily concerned with exploring and studying the planets nearest our own – slightly more advanced than the stage humans had reached when the Yeerks first invaded. Before he left, he gave this to her. His true calling was in the arts and he had designed it for her himself, and had it made.

"He was assigned to a ship scheduled to land on a small, uninhabited, but certainly habitable planet about two light years from our own, a short trip through Z-space which was all we were capable of at the time. They never reached the landing base and we never learned what became of them."

"How sad!" Cassie whispered.

"His love was heartbroken. Unbeknownst to him, she was carrying his child. Her parents were naturally furious, but for the sake of the child, they chose not to disown her. They did, however, do their best to make sure all trace of him was erased from her life and the life of her son. They destroyed everything he’d ever given her, any hologram or physical likeness of him she owned. But she hid the ring, and when her son fell in love, she gave it to him to give to his beloved. It has been passed to the eldest son for four generations now. When I was home on leave before arriving here, I asked for it. I did not know why, as I had no intended female to give it to, but I am glad I did." I held it out once more. She took it from me and studied it.

"It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it." She narrowed her eyes, attempting to read something. "There’s some sort of inscription. What does it say?"

I did not need to look, having read it many times myself. "Together In Love and Hope."

She smiled. "Hope."

I nodded. "Marry me, Cassie. I do not ask you to remove the ring that Jake gave you. I do not wish to replace him. But I ask that you allow me to love you."

She was silent. Then she put her hand behind my head and kissed me, softly. "Yes. And thank you," she murmured. Then she stood slowly, squeezed my hand, and walked over to the window. She pulled the drapes open and looked outside. After a moment, she covered her mouth with her hand and began to laugh and cry at the same time.

I was confused. Humans have a myriad of bewildering emotions, but I had never encountered one that entailed laughter and tears in the same breath. "Cassie?" I asked.

"Thank you," she whispered again, but not to me this time. I saw her twisting the wedding band on her left hand, slowly. She removed it, and put it on her right hand, slipping my family ring onto her left. "Thank you for loving me and allowing me to love someone else." I knew those words were not meant for me.

"Cassie?" I asked again, standing beside her and pulling aside the drapes so that I could also see outside.

"Look," was all she replied.

What I saw was white.

Sometime during the night, the landscape had become blanketed in glistening, shimmering, sparkling crystals of snow. Now everything lay crisp and frozen in the morning light, with still more floating lazily down from the sky.

Cassie placed her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder. She breathed deeply and laughed and sobbed at the same time. "I don’t understand," I said, gently stroking her hair.

She looked at me and squeezed my hand.

"It’s snowing."