Disclaimer: I do not own Card Captor Sakura
Wolf of the Snow
Epilogue:
The spring air was warm and fragrant; filled with the bitter-sweet tang of pollen and apple blossom, of apricot and dandelions and new grass peeking through the dark earth in shy dew- dropped crops.
Tomoyo dipped her brush into the bright blue paint pot, glowing with the others in the early morning light, and applied it to the canvas in soft, even strokes. She leant back in her chair momentarily, sweeping a dark curl from her face as she examined her art work. She then returned the brush to the blue pot and continued to paint.
It was Sunday morning and as usual, Tomoyo had taken the day off from work at Fujitaka Kinomoto’s apiary and come to her best friend’s orchard. The Li property was an enormous and beautiful one, situated on the quiet outskirts of the mountain and lined from one vast end to the other with tidy rows of citrus trees. There was a small, pretty creek running along the edge of their land where Sakura and Syaoran were known to disappear for hours at a time, sometimes to swim if the weather was warm, or else to sit on the loamy banks beneath the peppercorns and enjoy each other’s company. It was during this time, left by the lovers to her own devices, that Tomoyo would do some painting.
Usually, Tomoyo would choose a cool place to set up her easel and canvas, perhaps under the verandah of the cottage near the vegetable patch, or in the wide dappled shade of a tree. Mostly, she would paint the scenery. Occasionally, either on a whim or through a sudden jolt of inspiration would she endeavor along the more fantastical path and paint from her imagination. Today was one of those days.
Once again, Tomoyo lay down her brush and examined her painting with somewhat satisfaction. She really liked this one; it was a lot darker in tone than most of her other works and had an almost surreal, dream- like quality. Essentially it was of a night time landscape; there was a kind of grey, craggy canyon, tree- lined and illuminated against a dark mountain backdrop in the pale light of the moon. In the foreground, so diminutive that it was barely noticeable… a graceful, majestic creature with fur as white as pure snow, stood gazing at the moon.
The Wolf of the Snow.
Tomoyo was just about to pick up her paint brush once more, when she gave a surprised start.
A small, curious face had appeared at the edge of her canvas, watching Tomoyo with bright turquoise green eyes. It was a little girl, probably no more than four years old. She had a cute dirt smudged nose and an unruly mop of chocolate brown hair that fell in soft bangs across her forehead.
Her name was Motoko.
“Hello there,” Tomoyo greeted the child with a gentle smile.
“Hullo,” sang the girl. She waddled cheerfully around to the front of the painting and pointed at the white creature in the foreground. “What’s that?”
“This is a wolf,” Tomoyo replied.
Motoko pressed her face closer to the painting, as if to inspect it in more detail before she furrowed her brow.
“It’s the wrong color,” she stated firmly.
Tomoyo stifled a chuckle, amusement twinkling in her amethyst eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen a white wolf before?”
“No,” the girl replied simply.
“Well, that’s because this is a special wolf. It’s magic.”
Motoko scrunched up her nose with distaste and pouted. “I don’t like wolves, they’re scary and they have pointy teeth.”
Tomoyo laughed at the comical expression on her face.
“Well that’s true...But you know, they only show their teeth when they’re hunting…or when they want to protect the ones they love.”
The girl took a moment to think about this while she sucked on a piece of her hair.
Slurp, slurp, slurp.
The ends were now sticky with saliva.
After a while, the girl seemed to have come to a decision about something and shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I guess that’s alright.”
Just then, Motoko crawled up, somewhat clumsily onto Tomoyo’s lap and leaned up against her chest. She stared at the canvas for a few minutes more before she suddenly reached over to the small table beside the easel and picked up a paint brush. She dipped it into the pot of pink paint and drew a kind of five pointed blob in the middle of the moon. Tomoyo watched quietly, apparently unperturbed by the fact that the four year old had just altered her art work.
Once Motoko had finished coloring- in the blob of pink paint, she sat back against Tomoyo and grinned somewhat proudly.
The crude shape was naturally out place; a bright pink something floating in the middle of the moon that contrasted strangely to the overall dark backdrop. The girl however, was quite pleased with her masterpiece.
“I drew a flower,” she declared loudly, “so the magic wolf doesn’t get lonely!”
Tomoyo blinked once. She stared at the painting with wonder and then down at Motoko.
Flower….
She turned back to the painting again.
It was strange really. The longer it seemed she looked at that little pink ‘flower’…the more it resembled…a cherry blossom.
A white wolf looking up at a little cherry blossom petal, floating in the middle of the moon…
Tomoyo decided she was being ridiculous. It’s not like the girl knew…right?
Nonetheless, she reached down and kissed Motoko on the forehead, smiling affectionately.
“Thank you, it’s perfect now,” she whispered, brushing the shiny chocolate bangs from the girl’s eyes.
Motoko sighed sleepily, tucking her head under Tomoyo’s chin as the woman’s arms came around her in embrace. After a moment or two, Tomoyo spoke again.
“Hey…would you like to hear a story about the magic wolf?” she asked gently.
Motoko’s turquoise green eyes lit up with excitement and again, Tomoyo chuckled.
She waited until the girl had settled down in her lap more comfortably while she put the covers back on her paint pots to stop their contents from drying out. When they were both ready, she began.
“Aunty Tomoyo,” Motoko murmured softly, “Will I like this story?”
The young woman smiled warmly as she reached out and gently stroked the girl’s cheek.
She lifted her eyes momentarily, gazing out beyond the rows of citrus trees, beyond the orchard fence and rolling grey green hills to the mountains that loomed nostalgically in the distance.
“You know …I am most certain that you will.”
~ fin ~
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