When We Lost Them

The next morning, the two girls woke up to a quiet, snowy world. Fluffy snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, blanketing the city in cold, soft whiteness. They blinked the sleep from their eyes, their tiny bodies huddled together beneath the thin, tattered cloth they used as a blanket. The boy remained fast asleep nearby, his chest rising and falling gently with each slow breath.

Shivering, the girls peeked outside their little shelter. A cold breeze brushed against their cheeks, making them flinch. The narrow alley they called home looked even gloomier under the gray sky. Snow had settled everywhere, covering every rooftop, every street, every inch of the world around them in a cold embrace.

Curiosity pulled them out of their little den. They stepped cautiously into the alley, their bare feet sinking into the soft snow, sending sharp chills up their legs. They looked around, mesmerized by the sight of the city dressed in white. Even in their miserable state, there was something enchanting about the falling snow, like a fleeting piece of beauty in their grim lives.

Moments later, the cold bit through their thin clothes, forcing them to retreat. They scurried back inside their little shelter, hugging themselves tightly, trying to hold in the little warmth they had left.

"It’s going to be very cold today," the white-haired girl whispered, her breath forming little clouds in front of her lips.

"Yeah… looks like it," the gray-haired girl replied with a soft shiver, pressing her hands under her arms for warmth.

They sat together, their backs pressed against the damp wall, watching from the edge of the alley as life moved on without them. People passed by, dressed in thick coats, their gloved hands holding warm drinks, their faces hidden behind scarves. Everyone seemed to have someplace to be, something to do, someone to go home to.

"No one’s going to give us anything today," the white-haired girl muttered with a sigh. "They won’t even hear us over this snow."

Her sister nodded quietly, resting her head on her shoulder. The weight of hunger, cold, and grief pressed down on their tiny frames.

After a moment of silence, the white-haired girl spoke again, her voice softer this time. "Do you remember… how winter used to be? Back when we had a home… when we had a family?"

"Yeah," the gray-haired girl whispered, closing her eyes as memories flooded back. "I miss those days… when we were safe, warm… when we were happy."

They let their minds drift back to those golden days, to the warm house filled with laughter, to the loving arms of their mother, the stern but caring gaze of their father, and the protective smile of their older brother.

"I miss them," the white-haired girl said, her voice cracking, a single tear escaping her eye.

Her sister immediately wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. "I miss them too," she whispered, her own tears threatening to fall.

They sat there, clutching each other tightly, trying to hold on to those fading memories. Before the tragedy, their lives had been so full. Their father, a respected teacher at the Magic School, always came home with interesting stories. Their mother, always gentle and nurturing, kept their home warm and welcoming. Their brother, strong and kind, was training to become a proud knight. They were never rich, but they had love, and it was enough.

The memory of that last normal day replayed vividly in their minds.

That morning had started like any other. They had woken up to the smell of breakfast and the soft hum of their mother bustling in the kitchen. Their father and brother had already left, as usual.

"Mom! I want something tasty today!" the white-haired girl had chirped, bouncing on her seat.

"Me too! Something really yummy!" the gray-haired girl had chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Their mother had laughed, a warm, musical sound. "My little darlings, always so full of energy. I’ll make something nice, don’t you worry."

Moments later, she served them pancakes, warm and fluffy, dripping with syrup. They ate with delight, giggling, their mother smiling as she watched them. That moment had felt so simple… so ordinary… so safe.

After breakfast, their mother had washed the dishes and prepared to take them to school. They had walked together through bustling streets, the girls chatting happily while their mother held their hands tightly. She kissed them goodbye at the school gate, waving as they walked inside.

Neither of them knew it would be the last time they would ever see her smile.

The school day had passed in a blur, like any other day. But when they returned home, something was wrong. The house was quiet, too quiet. The door was slightly ajar.

"Mom?" the white-haired girl had called, pushing the door open. What they found inside would haunt them forever.

Blood. Everywhere. The warmth of their home replaced by the stench of death. Three bodies lay lifeless — their beloved mother, their strong father, their brave brother — all gone, their lives ripped away in a storm of violence.

They had screamed until their voices broke. Neighbors gathered, guards came, but no comfort followed. The investigation led nowhere, the trail vanished, and with it, any hope for justice. Their relatives turned their backs, the city closed its doors, and they were left alone in a world that no longer cared.

Thrown onto the streets, the two sisters learned quickly how cruel life could be. They begged, cried, and pleaded, but received little more than cold stares and empty hands. Nights without food, days without shelter, hunger gnawing at their bellies, and sorrow weighing down their hearts became their new reality.

It was in this despair that they met him — the boy.

The white-haired girl looked over at the boy, curled up under his thin, patched blanket, his small body trembling in the cold. Her expression softened.

"If it weren’t for him… I don’t know if we’d have survived this long," she whispered.

"Yeah," her sister agreed. "Even though he doesn’t even know our names… he helped us. He kept us safe. He shared what little he had with us."

"He’s… kind," the white-haired girl murmured, her heart aching for the boy who, like them, had been forgotten by the world.

They wondered where he came from, what his story was, but he never spoke much. He only smiled, and somehow, that smile kept them going.

A loud growl from her belly snapped the white-haired girl from her thoughts. She giggled weakly, placing her hands over her stomach. "I’m so hungry," she admitted.

"Me too…" the gray-haired girl sighed. “But there’s nowhere to go… not with the snow like this."

They both stared out at the falling snow. Each snowflake seemed to carry a memory of better times, a silent reminder of everything they had lost.

As the wind howled outside their little shelter, the girls pressed even closer together, sharing their body heat, clinging to the only thing they had left — each other.

The snow continued to fall, covering the streets, muffling the sounds of the bustling city. They closed their eyes, letting exhaustion take over, and drifting back to sleep. And so, the two sisters remained, hidden in the alley, swallowed by a world that had forgotten them, dreaming of warmth, of food, of family… of a life that had been stolen away.