(This takes place a year before the rash)
It was a bitter cold day in Finland. No one wanted to be out in such dreary weather, which, of course, made it a perfect day for Kirsten to go out with her mother.
Kirsten loved these days with every bit of her four-year-old heart. These were the only times when her mother was home. Combined with the fact that there was no crowd around, these days were the best of her entire life.
Daycare was fine, but it would never compare to the feeling of her mother’s warm hands, or a brush running through her hair while she was sang to, or a snowball fight. The crowd itself was overwhelming, grating her nerves like sandpaper on skin, so she cherished the cold days. Even when her mother made her wear that dreaded, stuffy snow coat, she never argued.
The snow coat was well used on her days out, making snowmen and snow angels. Having dragon breath when she blew out into the cold made her laugh endlessly. While all this was fun, there was something even more exciting they did on these days. They shopped! “To get the work done” her mother had said as an excuse, as if Kirsten understood. The only thing she knew was that she absolutely loved shopping.
From grocery stores, to clothing stores, to the occasional ‘for-fun’ antique or toy store, Kirsten loved all of it. The amount of choices made it an adventure; every object had a story. Every torn pair of jeans was battle armor, every toy with dirt on it was a hidden relic of a past world, every wet stick was a shiny sword.
No one ever minded or noticed when she inspected an old toy, building a world of her own. She liked to think it was because of who she was. Her short height and her quiet voice made her invisible. Her icy blue eyes could shoot lasers. Her platinum blonde, curly hair was a shield.
But no hero was without a sword. Her problem was that she couldn’t find a fitting weapon for herself. Thus, she begged her mother to enter every interesting store she spotted on the street. So far, she had not had luck, but that didn’t matter if she could find something in the shop they stood in front of.
It was a warm, quaint building by the name of “Small World,” advertising on the window that it sold antiques, junk, and knick-knacks. Kirsten had fallen in love with it the moment she saw it, and had nearly cried as she waited for her mother to push open the door.
Rushing inside, she was greeted by the comforting smell of wood, an overhead light that didn’t make her want to cry when she looked at it, and odd little trinkets on every cramped shelf. She adored the shop already, and she found herself drawn around the aisles. She carefully ran around the room, inspecting the shelves as she went. Some objects looked irresistible, others passable, but then she came to a stop at the toy shelf.
Toys had never been particularly appealing to her. They all were made for a purpose, and only ever did a few things. How was she supposed to make a world out of something that already had a use rooted in the real world? She scanned the boxes in front of her, even searching through some of the boxes, but nothing was eye-catching enough.
Suddenly, she spotted it. Sitting all alone was a small, multicolored box of its own. It was filthy, with muted colors. If objects could look sad, this one did. Inexplicably, Kirsten found it immediately alluring.
Her tiny fingers reached for the fascinating little cube. At this point her vision had tunneled, and all she could think about was what this thing was. She was no longer listening to her mother or the woman at the counter she was talking to, or looking at the toys in the other aisles.
The colors on it were all mixed up, but even then, they were pretty. Rather than chipping colors or cheap stickers like all the other toys in the shelf, this one object had beautifully coated paint that had just faded slightly. She twisted the toy lightly, watching delightedly as it turned with her every move.
Then it came to her. This would be her weapon, her sword! The one and only, a magnificent contraption that only she understood the meaning to. She was a genius who would fight artfully to the end. She was a warrior, and now she had a weapon to prove it!
Quietly, she walked over to her mother, tugging her sleeve gently. When she looked down, Kirsten quietly held both her hands up with the Rubik’s cube. She felt a rush of nervousness, quickly shifted her eyes down. Her bottom lip betrayed her, trembling furiously.
If she had a weapon of this strength, if she was an artful genius, no one at her daycare would dare laugh at her again. They wouldn’t talk to her, let alone talk about how she was ‘different’ like she wasn’t even there. She would be regarded as a soldier rather than ‘high-functioning.’
She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t dare make a sound as her mother sat down next to her on the floor, pulling the Rubik’s cube out from her tight grasp.
Kirsten sniffed loudly, daring to look at her mother. Her mother simply looked back at her with a small smile, brushing a curly lock from her face. “What do you want to show me?” she spoke in the soft voice that always made Kirsten feel like she was at home, being tucked into bed.
“I w-was going to save the world,” Kirsten whispered, leaning into her mother’s hand.
“Why don’t we still do that sweety? Let’s go outside, and you can save me,” her mother replied quietly. She stood up, still holding the cube, and quickly tipped the cashier.
Kirsten wiped the last of the tear tracks off her face, reaching for her already beloved weapon. Grabbing it tightly, she saw another item in her mother’s hands. A permanent marker. Her confusion must have been clear, because her mother explained, “It’s yours now, so you should write your name on it.”
Gently leading Kirsten’s hand, her mother helped her write her name. It was a simple, if not somewhat messy ‘Kirsten – with love’ written on a small red block.
Handing the marker back to the cashier, her mother asked, “Who are we saving the world from today?”
Kirsten smiled, knowing exactly what she wanted to do.
“Trolls.”
The sun shone brightly down on their camp this morning. Lalli, as usual, sat at the edge of their area, inspecting anything that caught his eyes.
He was bored. Infuriatingly, maddeningly bored. He had finished his rounds earlier, and had entirely run out of things to examine in their tiny camp site. Even if he could understand it, he didn’t want to listen to anyone’s irritating chatter.
He didn’t feel ready enough to scout, especially if he were risking running into one of the huge trolls they met earlier. Or maybe something even worse, he shuddered. It was better to have backup than nothing, he guessed.
He couldn’t sit there and do nothing, though, so he decided to check their supplies. Reaching around for the first bag he could find, he pulled out the first thing he grabbed.
It was that multicolored trinket he’d picked up earlier. (Emil had called it a Rubox, or something like that. Lalli didn’t exactly trust his judgement, though, so he hadn’t listened.)
He inspected it closely, wondering how a thing like that had lasted so long. It looked like nothing but a toy. Twisting it carefully, he tried matching the colors (Mikkel had suggested that one. Not much better than Emil, but he didn’t have any other ideas).
Fifteen minutes had passed by the time he got frustrated with it. He threw it down on the ground, scowling down at it. As he looked down, he noticed there was some light discoloration on one of the red blocks. That was kind of to be expected, but Lalli inspected it anyway.
Lalli nearly dropped the block in shock when he saw Finnish scrawled across the block.
‘Kirsten – with love’
