The Snow Fae Blessing

The first snow always came in quietly down the holler. Not a storm, not a warning, just a soft drift that settles over the mountains like quilted blanket. Daddy had already rattled out of the holler for the mines, before sunrise, the sound of his truck fading in to the hush the snow brought with it.

I slipped from bed and wiped a circle on the frosted window. Outside, the world glowed pale blue, snowflakes spinning slow and steady in the early light.

Every first snow stirred the same feeling in me-

a pull,

a calling,

a whisper in my bones.

Like the woods were waiting. I didn't know yet that this first snow would lead me someplace that didn't wake for just anyone.

By the time my chores were finished, the snow lay in a soft blanket across the mountain.

The boys were getting all bundled up to play, Mama was humming over the stove. Mamaw slept in her room-almost ninety-six and fragile.

I bundled up, cracked open the door, slipped outside. The cold rushed up my sleeves and stung my cheeks, but I didn't mind. Winter had its own kind of welcome.

The holler looked different under fresh snow, softer, edges blurred like a painting. The coal smoke drifted low across the snow.

I stepped off the porch, the snow crunching beneath my boots.

I followed the narrow path trail past the blackberry patch and disappeared into the tree line. The woods were my place-every stump, every bend, every fallen pine softened by moss.

Mama use to call me the "mountain wildling."

She'd say, "You'll run those woods so much you'll start hearin' things no one else can, Snow wakes more than just the old places."

I hadn't understood then. But I would after this day.

A hush settled over the trees, deep and velvet soft. The kind of quiet that made you stop and listen just to be sure you hadn't gone deaf.

That's when I felt it again- a prickle, light as a spiderweb, at the back of my neck.

I froze.

Not from fear.

Not yet.

Someone was watching me.

Or something. Then I saw it.

A shape.

Thin.

Still.

Half-hidden behind a pine tree.

It wasn't moving.

Wasn't breathing, far as I could tell.

Just watching.

At first glance it could've been a crooked tree branch, But the longer I stared, the stronger the tiny hairs along my spine grew-like the mountains were whispering, Pay attention!

Curiosity tugged harder than fear.

That's when I heard it.

"Stella Mae..."

Mamaw's voice?

Clear.

Faint.

Floating through the cold like a warm breath.

But Mamaw wasn't there.

Still...it didn't scare me.

It should have.

Instead, it settled warm in my chest, familiar and soft as a hand on my hair.

'Stella Mae..."

softer this time.

Farther away.

Strangely inviting.

The creature faint tracks led deeper into the trees, toward the part of the woods Mama and Mamaw warned me never to go alone.

Another whisper drifted through the hush:

"Stella Mae..."

My feet moved before my thoughts did.

Drawn.

Curious.

Wide-eyed

I followed the voice.

Deeper into the snow.

Deeper into the trees.

The woods narrowed, as snow-laden branches arched overhead, guiding me into a place people weren't meant to go.

The creatures shadow kept slipping ahead from trunk to trunk-never in full view, never fully gone. A guide or a lure, I couldn't tell. But I kept walking, drawn by something older than fear.

The familiar woods shifted into a part of the mountain Mama and Mamaw always warned me about to never go alone.

I stopped at its edge.

Even the snow seemed thinner here.

The land dipped low, opening into an arch like path of rocks rising from the ground like something ancient pushing up from beneath.

I knew the stories.

The Old Rocks of Devils Cove- a curving wall of stone carved with markings no one could read. Some said Indigenous or Moon-eyed people had made them. Others whispered they were older than that. Snow hit the symbols and melted instantly, with a faint hiss.

My heart was thudding as I stepped closer. The air changed the moment I crossed the boundary- warmer now, damp, like spring was hiding under the winter's skin. Icicles dripped in a steady rhythm.

I brushed one of the carvings. It tingled beneath my fingers. Spiral rings connected to a human-like figure, but not quite human.

Then-

"Stella Mae..."

Mamaw's voice again-but not her tone.

Someone trying to sound like her.

Fear pushed at me, but curiosity pushed harder.

I slipped between the rocks into a narrow corridor. The world behind me muffled instantly, like I'd stepped into the mountains mouth.

The passage widened into a hollow opening sky. Carvings were covered by every inch of the rocks around me.

At the far end, I could see a massive ancient mound that rose from the rocks, it was tall, smooth, rising the earth like a sleeping giant. Its surface was covered in frost-kissed moss, green and gold, untouched by snow. The mounds shape was too perfect, too round, too deliberate to be natural.

I took a single step forward.

And that's when I saw it.

Beneath the mound, the faintest shimmer of frost, lay a

perfect circle of mushrooms- untouched by snow, glowing in the dim winter light.

A fairy ring?

Hidden in Devils Cove, I thought.

I was standing right at the edge.

I don't know how long I stood there at the edge of that ring, staring at those mushrooms dusted in silver. Snowflakes drifted all around me, but none of them dared settle inside the circle.

I heard of fairy rings before- Mamaw use to point them out in the yard and tell me, "Don't you ever step in one, Stella Mae.

You'll come back changed, and not always for the better."

But I'd never seen one like this.

Not hidden by this mound that was older than memory.

Not glowing faint like a breath of starlight.

Not inside Devils Cove.

Some part of me should've run.

But something stronger than fear tugged at me.

"Stella Mae..."

I swallowed hard. The creatures narrow face flashed in my mind, peeking from behind the trees, Leading me here step by step. I couldn't tell if it meant to harm or

not. But I felt..chosen. Not special, exactly-just seen.

Drawn.

The hollow was warm compared to the winter outside. A thin mist curled around the base of the mound, and the air tasted like rain even though the sky was white with snow.

My fingers tingled. And I took one step forward.

My boot crossed the edge of the ring.

The ground hummed-soft and low, like a plucked guitar string rather than heard.

The air shimmered, the moss on the mound rustled even though there was no wind.

I stepped all the way inside. The sound of the outside world faded like someone had stuffed cotton in my ears. Then slowly, the air warmed.

Not spring-warm.

Something older.

Something...alive.

The color of the mound shifted, brightening as if sunlight were creeping up from the soil instead of shining down from the sky.

The world beneath the mound shimmered in a strange gold-green light, warm in a way winter had no business being. The mist curled around my ankles, glowing faintly.

The mound's glow pulsed one beneath my feet, soft, like breath.

Not threatening.

Not welcoming.

Just...remembering.

The mist thickened in front of me, swirling upward until it formed a shape- a women's outline. She was older, her hair pulled back in a loose bun, her dress the kind mountain women wore hundreds of years ago.

I couldn't see her face clearly...

but her presence felt like river stones and weathered wood.

Solid.

Steady.

Wild.

The carvings on the rocks brightened all at once.

And her voice-low, warm, ancient, rose inside my mind:

"One of ours once saved one of theirs."

My breath hitched.

She wasn't speaking English, not exactly, but I

understood the meaning like it was being poured

straight into my bones.

The light around her flickered, shaping itself into a memory.

A winter night.

A smaller mound-Devils Cove before the stones rose so tall.

Snow falling hard and fast.

A young women kneeling beside something half-hidden

in the drifts.

Not human.

Not animal.

Something between them.

More angelic looking.

Small and petite.

Eyes too bright.

Wounded.

Dying.

And the women, my ancestor, pulled it into

her arms anyway.

The scene blurred, then reshaped:

her tending it

feeding it

singing to it

hiding it from men who would have burned it

keeping it warm with her own coat

The voice whispered:

"She saved one of the old ones."

"And the old ones repay their debts."

The light shifted again.

This time I saw the women standing at the mound's entrance. The being she saved, fully healed, glowing faint, placed its finger on her forehead.

A blessing.

A mark.

A binding.

"Her line was chosen."

"Protected."

"Gifted."

"Watched."

A tremor ran through me.

The women's silhouette softened, her outline

shimmering.

"You carry her blood, Stella Mae."

"The gift she earned is your now."

The mist settled back to the ground, glowing moss pulsing

with the last flicker of the memory.

I pressed my hand to my chest, my heartbeat shaking through me.

Chosen.

Not by accident.

Not by misstep.

Not by curiosity.

Chosen because, long ago,

one women showed kindness

to something the world feared.

And the Otherworld never forgot.

The glow faded.

The mound quieted.

And the air inside Devils Cove went still as held breath.

I took one step backward-out of the ring-and the world snapped back into winter. The cold slammed against my skin, sharp enough to steal my breath. Snow was falling again outside the stone walls, heavy and thick, like the sky had lost patience while I was gone.

For a heartbeat, I just stood there, mu pulse

thundering in my ears.

Everything felt...louder.

Clearer.

Brighter.

The carvings on the stones were just carvings again.

The mist had vanished.

The mound sat quietly, as if nothing had happened at all.

But something inside me had shifted.

Like a door had opened in my chest and wouldn't shut again.

I turned and walked out of the Cove.

The moments my boots crossed the boundary of the Cove, sound rushed back in. the crunch of the snow the creak of the ice-laden branches the distant yelling of a rooster crowing and the faint whisper of the wind curling down the holler.

Everything looked the same. But I wasn't. I hurried through the woods, back to the cabin.

When our cabin came into view, the windows glowed dim orange from the coal stove. I could see Mama moving inside, calling us in for supper.

And then I remembered,

Mamaw.

Bedridden.

Ninety-five.

Barley speaking these past few days except in

soft, wandering whispers.

My chest tightened.

I slipped inside the cabin, snow melting on the floor. Mama

turned to scold me for being out so long, but she stopped

when she saw my face.

"You alright, Stella Mae?" she asked softly. "You look...

different."

I didn't know how to answer. I just whispered, " I need to see Mamaw."

Mama just stepped aside with a look of worry.

I pushed open the door to Mamaw's room.

The air was warm, smelling of old quilts and wintergreen salve.

Mamaw lay curled on her side, hair thin and white as cobwebs, breathing soft but shallow.

"Hey, Mamaw," I whispered, easing onto the bed.

Her eyes fluttered...then opened with clarity she hadn't shown in weeks.

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

"You've been awakened," she rasped.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I nodded, "Mamaw...the Cove...It opened."

Her thin hand reached for mine, weak but warm. She squeezed with surprising strength. "I knew it would"

A tear slid down her wrinkled cheek.

"Child...I warned you away 'cause you weren't ready."

"Some things you can't teach. They're remembered."

"I saw her," I whispered. "The one who saved the old one."

Mamaw's eyes softened,

"My Mamaw," she breathed.

"And her Mamaw before her."

"Am I ...like her?"

A tiny nod.

Then, with the last of her strength, Mamaw raised a trembling hand and placed it over my heart. "You carry the gift now, Stella Mae."

"The land's been watchin' you since the day you opened your eyes."

Her voice thinned, barley more than a breath.

"You're the next one.

The healer.

The protector.

The keeper of the covenant."

Tears slipped down my cheeks.

"Mamaw...please don't go."

Her thumb brushed my hand, slow and tender.

"I ain't goin' child." "I'm just goin' home."

Her eyes closed.

Her chest rose once.

Fell.

Softly.

And then she was gone.

But the warmth beneath her hand didn't fade.

It spread-

into my ribs,

my bones,

my blood.

A glow that was hers,

and her Mamaw's,

and hers before that.

And in that quiet moment, I understood:

Devils Cove hadn't taken anything from me.

It had given me everything I was meant to carry.