Janet In Snowbound London

Janet glanced down the street. The road ahead was covered with smooth snow. A row of white footprints crossed it and vanished behind a bus shelter. They were bigger than Janet’s boots but smaller than the bears’ paws.

“Were you following those?” she asked.

The smaller bear tilted its head.

Janet wanted to see where the prints went. She also wanted to stay close to the shop, where the doorway had a little roof over it. The snow was falling faster now, and the wind pushed cold flakes against her cheeks.

She tried walking around the bears on the left.

The larger bear moved left too.

Janet tried the right.

The smaller bear stepped right.

Janet stopped again. “You are blocking the way.”

The smaller bear sat down with a soft puff in the snow.

Janet almost laughed. “That does not make the path wider.”

The larger bear sat beside it. Their paws rested neatly in front of them. They looked less like guards and more like two very polite cushions.

Janet studied their faces. The bears were not trying to frighten her. Perhaps they were waiting for something. Perhaps they were lonely. The quiet street had no people, no buses, and no open doors. Only snowflakes danced around them.

She took the biscuit from her pocket and held it up.

The smaller bear’s nose lifted.

“Oh,” Janet said. “You want this?”

The larger bear gave a slow shake of its head. The smaller bear looked at the biscuit, then at the white footprints.

Janet lowered her hand. “You do not want my biscuit. You want me to look at the trail.”

The smaller bear stood.

It walked to the first large print and placed one paw inside it. Then it looked back at Janet.

Janet felt a warm spark of excitement beneath her scarf. She had come searching for strange fun, and now two polar bears were showing her a secret path through snowbound London.

Still, the wind was cold. A gust blew her hat down over one eye.

“Maybe I can follow,” she said, “but we must go slowly and stay where it is safe.”

The larger bear turned toward the snow-covered road. The smaller bear followed.

Janet stepped after them.

The first few prints led past the closed shop. Snow squeaked under her boots. The bears moved carefully, leaving deep paw marks. Janet placed her feet in the smaller prints, one at a time.

At the bus shelter, the trail turned sharply.

Janet leaned around the shelter to see. Beyond it, the pavement dipped beneath a thick drift. A blue street sign poked out of the snow. The white pawprints went straight across the drift.

Janet’s boot sank up to her ankle.

She pulled it free with a little tug. “That is too deep for me.”

The bears stopped on the other side.

Janet looked at the shelter. Its glass walls were cloudy with frost, but its roof kept the snow away. She could wait there and think. The bears could wait too.

She stepped back toward the shelter.

The smaller bear followed her.

The larger bear followed the smaller one.

Janet turned to face them. “You can come, but no pushing.”

The bears sat side by side beneath the shelter roof. Their warm breath made tiny clouds in the cold air.

Janet rubbed her hands together. The glass smelled faintly of wet wool and old rain. Outside, snow slid from the shop sign with a soft whoosh.

She opened her biscuit and broke it in half. She placed one piece on the ground between herself and the bears.

The smaller bear sniffed it, then gently nudged it toward Janet.

Janet smiled. “You really do not want my biscuit.”

She put the biscuit back in her pocket. “All right. We can share the trail instead.”

The larger bear lifted one paw and tapped the frosty glass.

Tap. Tap.

Janet looked where it pointed. A line of small pawprints crossed the road behind the shelter. These prints were not from polar bears. They were narrow and neat, with little marks at the sides.

“Dogs,” Janet said.

Both bears turned toward the prints.

“White snow dogs,” Janet added. “Are you looking for them?”

The smaller bear pressed its nose to the glass. Its breath made a round clear spot.

Janet reached up and rubbed another clear spot with her mitten. Through it, she could see the trail winding between two snow-covered lampposts. It led toward a narrow lane, but the lane was hidden by a tall mound of snow.

She wanted to follow it right away. Yet the snow had climbed almost to her knees, and the wind was making the street hard to see.

Janet remembered the warm doorway near the corner shop. It had a deep step and a small roof. From there, she could watch the trail without standing in the open.

“We should shelter first,” she said. “Then we can look again.”

The bears did not move.

Janet pointed to the doorway. “It is close. You can follow me if you stay behind.”

The larger bear stood. The smaller bear stood too.

Janet left the shelter and walked back toward the shop. She made each step wide and firm. Her boots sank into the soft snow, leaving a clear trail.

Behind her came a slow crunch.

Janet glanced over her shoulder.

The larger bear was following her footprints.

The smaller bear followed the larger bear’s prints.

Janet stopped. The bears stopped.

She walked again. They walked again.

“You are following me now,” Janet said.

The smaller bear made a quiet puffing sound. It sounded almost like a laugh.

Janet reached the shop doorway. The step was dry beneath the little roof. She climbed onto it and brushed snow from her sleeves. The brick wall at her back felt solid and warm compared with the open street.

The bears sat below the step.

Janet looked at them. “This is a good place to rest. No one is lost here.”

The larger bear placed its paw on the first footprint Janet had made.

Then it looked past her, toward the lane.

Janet followed its gaze.

The polar bears’ trail and Janet’s trail met at the doorway. From there, all three trails pointed toward the same snowy lane: the large pawprints, the smaller pawprints, and the neat marks of the white snow dogs.

Janet’s cheeks tingled with cold and wonder.

She had set out alone, hoping to find fun. Now she had two gentle polar bears at her feet and a secret trail waiting beyond the snow.

The smaller bear curled its blue-ribboned neck and rested its chin on the step.

Janet took out her biscuit once more. This time, she broke it into three tiny pieces. She ate one, tucked one away for later, and set the last piece on the step.

The smaller bear sniffed it, then looked at Janet.

Janet laughed softly. “All right. We can wait until the snow settles.”

The bear leaned close, careful not to touch her mitten.

Snow continued to fall over London, covering the street in fresh white. Janet stayed beneath the safe doorway, warm enough to smile. The bears stayed beside her, watching the lane.

A few moments later, the wind eased.

The pawprints remained clear.

Janet looked from the white snow dogs’ trail to the two waiting bears. “Tomorrow,” she said, “we will follow it together.”

The larger bear gave a slow, happy nod.

Kindness can turn a lonely walk into a safe adventure shared with friends.

End of chapter one. 5 more chapters and about 9,422 words in the full book.