Escape from the North Pole

Lumi

The first thing that hit me as I tumbled out of the magical portal was the cold. It was a bone-chilling, teeth-rattling cold that made the North Pole seem like a tropical paradise. The air was so frigid that it felt like tiny ice crystals were forming in my lungs with each breath.

I landed with a soft thud in a snowbank, the powdery snow poofing up around me like a cloud of icing sugar. My cheeks were already turning pink from the frosty air, but despite the chill, I couldn't help but grin. I had done it. I had left the North Pole and all its magical duties behind.

I brushed the snow off my bright red coat, the color stark against the pristine white landscape. My fingers were already turning numb, but I wiggled them, letting a small spark of magic warm them up. I looked around, my breath misting in the air, and took in the sight of Frostpeak for the first time.

Frostpeak was a picturesque town nestled in a valley surrounded by towering mountains. The peaks were capped with snow that glistened under the pale winter sun, like diamonds scattered across a white blanket. The houses were quaint, with smoke curling from their chimneys in lazy spirals, and the streets were lined with twinkling lights that cast a warm glow on the snow. It was like stepping into a Christmas card, even more so than the North Pole -and I should know! I loved it instantly.

I started walking through the town, my boots crunching in the snow. The sound was satisfying, a rhythm that matched the beating of my heart. I drew more than a few curious glances from the townsfolk. I supposed a cheerful elf in a red coat and pointed ears wasn't something they saw every day, though I pasted a fairy and what I was pretty sure was a troll as I looked around the town.

But I was used to standing out, and I embraced it. I waved and smiled at everyone, my natural warmth drawing people in. A woman bundled up in a thick scarf and hat waved back, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a friendly smile. A group of children playing in the snow stopped and stared, their mouths agape, before waving enthusiastically. I could already feel the magic of this place seeping into my bones, and I knew I had made the right decision.

My first stop was the local diner, a cozy place called The Frosty Mug. The sign above the door was carved from wood and painted with intricate designs of snowflakes and pine trees. I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside, the warmth enveloping me like a comforting hug. The smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries filled the air, and I couldn't help but sigh in contentment. The diner was bustling with activity, the hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery against plates creating a lively atmosphere.

I found an empty seat by the window, the frost on the glass creating delicate patterns that sparkled in the sunlight. A waitress with rosy cheeks and a kind smile approached me, her notepad at the ready.

"What can I get for you, dear?" she asked, her voice warm and friendly.

"A hot chocolate, please," I said, rubbing my hands together to warm them up.

She nodded and scribbled down my order. "You new in town? I haven't seen you around before."

I smiled, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of starting fresh. "Yes, I just arrived. I'm Lumi."

"Welcome to Frostpeak, Lumi. I'm Martha. You'll love it here. It's a special place," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"I can already feel it," I replied, looking out the window at the charming town.

Martha left to get my hot chocolate, and I settled into my seat, watching the townsfolk go about their day. The scene outside was like a living painting, the colors muted by the winter landscape but no less vibrant. A horse-drawn carriage trotted by, the bells on the horse's harness jingling merrily. A man swept the snow off the sidewalk in front of his shop, his breath misting in the air. It was all so wonderfully normal, so different from the constant magic and bustle of the North Pole--which had gotten somewhat industrial to tell you the truth.

That's when I saw them. Two tall, broad-shouldered men walking down the street. They were identical twins, with dark hair that curled slightly at the nape of their necks that peeked charmingly out of their matching toboggans. Piercing cerulean eyes that made my breath catch scanned the street. There was something about them that made me sit up a little straighter. They had an air of authority, a gruffness that was both intimidating and intriguing. Their strides were confident, their boots leaving deep imprints in the snow. They were dressed in thick flannel shirts and jeans, their muscular forms evident even under the layers of clothing.

I watched as they entered the diner, their presence commanding immediate attention of everyone in the room. The door swung shut behind them with a soft thud, and the hum of conversation seemed to quiet down for a moment. The waitress greeted them with a friendly smile, and they nodded in response, their expressions serious. They sat at the counter, their backs to me, and I couldn't help but steal glances at them. There was something rugged and primal that drew me in, a stark contrast to the jolly elves and cheerful reindeer I was used to.

Martha returned with my hot chocolate, the mug steaming and topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a peppermint stick. I thanked her and took a sip, the rich, sweet liquid warming me from the inside out. I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into my fingers, and continued to watch the twins out of the corner of my eye.

Suddenly, one of them turned around and caught me staring. I blushed, feeling like a schoolgirl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. His penetrating azure eyes met mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, and I quickly found the red mug in my hands incredibly interesting, my heart pounding in my chest.

I took another sip of my hot chocolate, trying to act nonchalant, but I could feel his gaze still on me. I risked a glance back at him, and this time, he was the one who looked away, turning back to his brother. I let out a sigh of relief, my cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

I finished my steamy chocolate, the mug now empty except for a few remnants of whipped cream. Popping the little bit of candy cane left in my mouth, I left some money on the table, including a generous tip for Martha, and stood up to leave. As I walked past the counter, I could feel the twins' eyes on me, their gazes like a physical touch. I kept my head held high, my shoulders back, and walked out of the diner praying my natural clumsiness didn't chose that moment to show itself.