Once upon a time, in a land far away, lived two twins whose destiny was of everlasting despair. The two, both of them girls, were as different as no twins have ever been before or after. One had hair like a raging fire: orange and red woven together, wild and untameable like a lion’s mane, eyes like candle flames and skin dark, but glowing like it was truly on fire and a voice so warm, passionate and full of power. Her name was Blaze.
The other had skin like ivory and hair like a snowstorm: bluish strands that fell around her perfect face like a curtain of a thousand tiny icicles. Her eyes were pale blue, sharp and with one look, she sent shivers down any man’s spine and her voice was so soft, yet just like the frosty northern wind that signals winter’s apporach. Her name was Snow.
These two twins lived together in a tiny cottage, just outside a farmer’s village. Around them were fields where all sorts of grain would grow each year. But from the year that these two were born, the crops started to fail. And each year, the village suffered from lesser and lesser grain. Since this village had no other goods themselves, they all depended upon these fragile crops so the farmers could trade for meat, fruit, and vegetables, wood and metal. But now, each year would either be too hot and dry or too cold with icy winds that killed all the sprouts.
The farmers started to lose hope, young and old starved and slowly life was drained from this village. Year after year, no grain was harvested, no bread baked, no trades made at the markets in the nearby villages. Sickness and death lingered at every door and every street. The only two who lived unaffected were the twins.
One year, when all the fields were so dried up that no one even bothered putting any seed in the ground, the twins walked into town. The town, that had once been full of life and radiating with exuberance, was now dead silent. The streets that had been crowded with merchants selling everything from toys and candy to weapons and tools and children playing, showed no trace of happier times. Even the fountain in the marketplace had dried. The houses seemed dead, and all the doors and windows were shut.
The occasional person who walked about the streets was famished and didn’t even give a nod when he passed by.
Blaze looked at the town she loved so much, her home, and saw that the unnatural drought was too familiar. The cracks in the ground that had always been left as a trace wherever she walked, the hot, dry air, so much like her own breath, that seemed to be burning her twin’s fragile, cold skin. Snow had to put on her cloak and hood, to protect herself from the heat. For the first time since her birth, Blaze wished she was able to cry. But she never had been, and never would be. The moisture would evaporate the moment it showed in the corner of her eyes.
The two twins stopped and looked around them. Behind, in their footsteps, they saw cracked, dry dirt and a path of cold ice, starting to melt slowly on the hot ground.
Snow was too on the brink of tears and when she looked at her sister, a single drop froze to a perfect crystal on her cheek.
Without saying a single word, the twins knew what to do. They wanted so desperately to help this town and its people.
Blaze stretched out her hand for Snow, and the moment their grip closed, Snow started melting, the moisture rising up into the sky. Blaze felt tears running down her cheeks as she felt her body cooling, and becoming one with Snow’s, slowly drifting towards the clear sky, summoning the clouds.
Later that afternoon, the farmers could hear the unmistakable sound of rain falling on the ground. They all rushed outside, and were overwhelmed with joy by the sight that met them. The ground was getting all muddy, and the air was damp and the wind cool on their cheeks. One of the youngsters ran to the little cottage to tell the twins about this delightful miracle, but found it empty. When he returned, one of the elders held two capes in her arms. One was black and one was white. He recognized them as the capes the twins always wore. On the ground he saw a little pile of coal-dust and a few ice crystals. And just in this pile, grew a tiny, fragile snowdrop.