Frozen nitrogen crystals blew in eddies around the skirts of the village. Howdalamps pooled the celestial night, three years old on this day as a father, mother, and daughter pushed against the wind.

 

Mother huddled her solar blanket tighter around her head and shoulders. Her breathing apparatus obscured most of the outside world. She navigated by feel and an instinct for where her husband trod. She glanced at warmly lit windows. People would be feasting behind those curtains.

 

She shifted her burden and turned, her instinct aroused. She reached out and fumbled in the nothingness behind her. “Raouph?”

 

“Miha?” Her husband’s voice came directly into her ear. He turned to wait for her. “We cannot stop. The villagers might be hostile.”

 

“Where is Hiddie?” Miha faced back where their footprints already melted into the permafrost aisle between houses. “We came here on the promise of a better life. The villagers aren’t like the ones at home.” She reassured while her panic mounted. Obviously their youngest, their only son Hiddie was not with his father. “Fhyn?” She put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

 

“He was here.” Fhyn shifted her burden on her back. “He has the Menorah clutched to his chest.”

 

They carried everything they owned. Being the youngest, Hiddie carried their lone ritual treasure. Miha scowled at Raouph who had turned back to the path out of the village.

 

“I’m not leaving without him." Miha dropped the sack of food and clothing at the base of a curtained window. "Fhyn, call him. Fix your locator on him.” The wind picked up her blanket like a sail. She moved much easier with the wind than against it.

 

“Hiddie?” Miha tugged at a boot sticking out of a bank of whitish-blue crystals. She beat the flakes off the inert body still clutching the wrapped Menorah. “God, no!” She fought back. “Hiddie! Hiddie!” She cried while shaking his shoulders.

 

His head rolled to the side.

 

“Raouph!” Miha cried to the dark shape that had followed her back into the village with disgruntled murmurings.

 

Father extended a chord from his protective suit to his son’s. “Temperature very low, but there is still life.” His relief mixed with his fear.

 

“He needs a doctor!” Miha insisted.

 

“Miha, no! We cannot stop. The villagers…”

 

“Are not like home! I don’t care how hostile some of them are, we are going to ask someone. My cousin said they are open and honest here. This village is big enough to have a doctor.” Miha gathered her son under his arms. “Fhyn, take his legs.”

 

Raouph grunted and gave his burden to Fhyn. He lifted Hiddie’s legs. “Where are you taking him?”

 

“There.” Miha jerked her head toward a brighter patch in the night. “That shieldway is decorated. They are kind people.”

 

“Why don’t you just go? You speak some of their tongue. I’ll keep Hiddie and Fhyn safe back here.”

 

“Raouph! Stop hiding.” She spoke firmly, yet with tender understanding. The persecution at home haunted them all. “We take Hiddie. They see the need without us having to explain. Maybe they don’t understand our words, but they see and help.”

 

Together they heaved their son into the light. Miha plugged her suit into the intercom in the shieldway.

 

“Yes?” a man’s voice asked.

 

“Please, kind man. We need doctor. Warmth for son.” Miha stood back to show Hiddie’s form propped against her.

 

The family held their breath. The wind howled in the entrance. Crystals gathered around their feet and blew away.

 

Raouph growled. “They don’t mind if we freeze.”

 

“Give them time.” Miha heard muffled voices through her connection. Thumping and scuffles followed.

 

The shield vapourized. A shiny suit hurried forward and gestured for them to enter. The shield lowered and the inside entry opened to them.

 

Miha and her family shed their protective layers and breathed premixed air loaded with mouthwatering fragrances.

 

A tall, stooped man emerged from the shiny suit. “Good Night’s Nativity,” he greeted while bending over Hiddie and helping Raouph to remove head gear. “His arms are frozen around that package. I’ve sent word to the doctor.”

 

“He comes here? Is it …?” Miha suddenly felt shy and hesitated to interrupt such an important person’s feast.

 

A tall woman in festive clothing entered with a tray of steaming mugs. “Please.” She smiled but kept her eyes lowered.

 

The man smiled as Miha and her family accepted the mugs. He took one and touched the warmth to Hiddie’s lips. “This is my wife, Ckickigh. My name is Achikigh. I don’t know what else to do.”

 

The air beside Ckickigh wavered. A portly figure materialized in more sober clothing.

 

No words passed among the gathering. The new arrival scanned Hiddie and nodded to Miha with encouragement. Then he disappeared. With Hiddie.

 

Miha cried out and sank to her knees. Raouph shoved the tall man aside trying to get to the empty place where his son vanished. Fhyn sank beside her mother, joining her tears to her grief.

 

“Please.” Achikigh called out. “He took the boy quickly. We follow on foot. I will guide you. By the time we arrive, your son will be awake, I’m sure of it. Dr. Mendel is wise and knowledgeable.

 

Raouph leaned toward Miha. “Did he say, Mendel? That is a name from our tribe.”

 

* * *

 

Miha sat engulfed in a warm cushion with her sleepy son snuggled against her side. She watched her husband and the doctor setting candles in the Menorah. Fhyn and the doctor’s daughter held their heads close together over a picture book.

 

The doctor had explained that people on this planet were open and honest, just like Miha’s cousin had promised. They accepted ancient people like Dr. Mendel and Raouph’s family’s tribe. His voice held the authority Miha’s husband needed to put the persecutions behind him. She would remain grateful to him for saving the life of both her men to the end of her days and beyond.