Christmas Market

Snow had been falling since dawn, light and steady, softening the world as it got covered by the white, cold, powder like water. By the time afternoon settled over the small village, every rooftop, cobblestone street, and canal-side railing lay covered in a pristine clean, pure white blanket. Smoke curved up lazily from chimneys, carrying the comforting scent of peat and woodfire, while strings of golden lights shimmered ever so faintly through the snowfall.

Life seemed to have paused in the village, everywhere but in the main square, where the annual Christmas market had come alive.

Hivern walked into the square with an open curious gaze. Wooden stalls had been lined in the open space, their roofs dusted with thick, white snow. Garlands of pine and holly draped along the edges, while lanterns gently swayed in the cold breeze, casting their warm glow over the tables laden with spiced pastries, handmade ornaments, knitted scarves… Laughter and quiet conversations drifted through the air around Hivern, their echoes softened by the snow, blending in with the distant ringing of the church bells marking the hour. 

People turned around as Hivern passed next to them, his rare and beautifully blended coat, grey layered over a hooded smoky black base, stood out with the shimmering of warm toned lights. Snowflakes were gently clinging on the stallion’s long tail, distinctive of the breed, whilst the flakes that fell over his coat melted into his thick winter coat. His dark eyes reflected the glow of the lanterns and their warm hues. They also reflected the warm and quiet kindness of the stallion’s personality, which invited anyone who would like to approach him for some cuddles.

Though his appearance often drew attention to him, Hivern never sought it. He continued to walk slowly around the market, his hooves stepping softly over the stone flooring. Hivern was a regular for the annual market, he would always visit the town on the days of the market, his presence familiar and beloved by the locals. Children would normally call out to him excitedly, while the adults smiled softly, reassured by his gentle demeanor, and sometimes would give him a carrot or two.

Hivern stopped as a little girl approached with her parents, the stallion lowering his head slightly to greet the little one. The girl’s hat was slipping crookedly over her eyes as she held out a mittened hand towards Hivern. The stallion leaned forwards, just enough to meet her hand halfway. He breathed softly, a warm puff of air against her palm. The little girl laughed, a sound so bright as the bells of the church. Full of confidence the girl reached out with both her hands to stroke Hivern’s black muzzle.

Hivern stood perfectly still, his ears flicking softly towards the sounds of the market, he stayed attentive, but unbothered as he enjoyed the little girl’s caresses. Hivern had always had a deeply caring nature. He always seemed to sense unease before it ever became visible, and always responded to it instinctively with calm and patience. In crowded spaces, where noise and movement might unsettle others, he became quieter still, grounding himself, so those around him could do the same.

Twilight deepened and the snowfall grew heavier, the village glowing brighter in contrast to the weather, the lights reflecting in the snow like tiny constellations scattered around the ground if you looked at them from high above. Somewhere nearby, a small choir began to sing classical Christmas carols, their voices rising gently above the murmur of the crowd, beginning to gather them around the scenario.

Hiver shifted his weight slightly, hooves crunching softly over the very  thin layer of snow that was starting to accumulate on the previously cleaned stones. He watched as people passed by, carrying parcels wrapped in brown paper and twine, their cheeks flushed from the cold. Not too far from him, a vendor laughed as the wind threatened to snatch away his woolen cap, while his colleague poured hot cider with practiced ease, steam rising from the cup as the liquid filled the small recipient.

Not too far from where Hivern was standing, an elderly woman struggled to steady herself on the slick stones. Her basket slipped from her grasp, spilling small wooden figurines onto the snow. Before anyone else could react, Hivern stepped up, carefully, lowering his head towards the fallen items. The space opened around him and the elderly woman, the other people beginning to realise what had happened.

Hivern gently nudged one of the figurines towards the woman with his muzzle, then waited, motionless and attentive. The woman looked up, startled at first, but her surprise shifted to a smile, soft, graceful… touched by the stallion’s gesture. With the hello of another passerby, the old woman managed to gather her things, and then patted Hivern’s neck affectionately before moving on.

The cold continued to deepen as evening settled fully over the village, snow gathering along the edges of the stalls, weighing down garlands, muffling footsteps and noises all around. Hivern exhaled slowly as the crowds began to dissipate, the people might be feeling the cold, but he was feeling warm, content. The village, the lights, the people, the gentle rhythm of the evening all seemed to wrap around him in an embrace.

Snow began to settle along his back, outlining the contrasts of his coat. For a moment, he looked as though he belonged to the winter itself. A living part of the season, gentle and steadfast. He began to walk away as the market emptied for the day, the snow-covered village behind him seemed a bit brighter under the snow curtain falling down on it. He was sure to return next year again.