At the End of Purple

Untitled | Rose Slade | Pencil and ink

At the End of Purple by Finley Hatzfeld 

The ground was dusted with snow, shining bright in the warm sun, like a thousand specks of stardust. The trees were as tall as I could see, almost reaching the sky. We trudged through the icy powder and the leaves stuck beneath it. It was hard work, but us reindeer were built for this. We had undertaken this trip every year, with my grandmother, my Mormor, serving as our fearless leader, always making sure that we stayed on the right path. The chilly, spring air blew across my face, tickling my antlers. Then, a snowflake fell on my nose. Mormor used to tell me that it means goodluck. I love snowflakes. 

“Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” Mormor exclaimed, her voice hoarse in the cold, morning air, snapping me out of my thoughts. 

It was the third time she had asked that this morning. But why? It’s like she says something, and then her mind is wiped blank, and she starts all over again. That doesn’t happen to me, or grandad. She didn’t used to do it either. She’s our leader, she shouldn't forget anything. 

“Yes, dear,” replied my grandfather, looking worn, his eyes drooping down a little and his back hunched.

As I marched ahead, I caught a glimpse of vibrant purpely-blue, against the neutral landscape. I stopped dead in my tracks. It was a bright violet flower, growing through the snow. I’d never seen anything like it. I continued to gawk at the flower, and the rest of my family came over to discover what I was so intrigued by. It was so new and different, none of us had any idea what we were looking at. It was surrounded by its own little bubble of amazement. 

“Have you seen anything like this, Mormor?” I asked, searching around for my grandmother. I was answered by silence,“Mormor?” Nothing. Where could she be? 

“We should have kept a better eye on her,” I heard one of the adults say, as they huddled together. 

“She’s been declining so fast lately,” another responded. 

“Declining from what? What’s wrong with Mormor?” I asked, but I was quickly yanked away. 

“Go play with the others.”  someone snapped, their face wrinkled with worry.

But if Mormor was lost, we needed to look for her, I thought to myself. I search through the clearing. Maybe she was just sitting behind a tree and couldn’t hear us. Or maybe she was looking for food. But, if she was lost, I felt that it was up to me to find her. I took one last glance at the flower before leaving. It stood there, still, as if it was cemented in the ground, there was no getting rid of it. 

I began my hunt through the forest, leaving my tracks in the forever-growing layer of snow. My hooves were numb with exhaustion, but I couldn’t stop, I needed to find her. But where was she? I stopped to rest, my legs almost giving in. But then, I saw the same pop of purple, standing out against the snow. It was a larger group this time, clustered around an evergreen. As I moved closer, indentations in the snow appeared. Hoofprints. They weren’t mine. Then, it came to me. I looked up, noticing yet another smidge of color. I raced towards it, weaving in and out of the tightly packed trees. Right as I was about to exit the brush, I paused, seeing something, someone else.

I stepped out into the clearing, and there she was, Mormor, laying in the center of the field, watching the thousands of the violet specks sprouting from the frozen earth, almost as if she was counting each flower. I felt something rush through me, warming my body. I wanted to gallop up to her. At first glimpse, she looked the same as she always had, patient, calm. But then, as I looked at her more closely, I saw the blankness in her eyes. They were physically there, but seemed empty. It wasn’t my Mormor in there, not anymore. She was gone. 

“Hello Mormor,” I said softly, my voice not much more than a whisper.

“Hello little deer, aren't these flowers beautiful? What’s the matter? Are you lost?”

“No Mormor, not anymore.”