The house was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace. I was curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over me and a book open in my lap. The snow outside fell in thick, lazy flakes, blanketing the yard and coating the branches of the bare trees. I tried to focus on the story, but my mind kept wandering. The nightmare from the night before still clung to me, lingering like a shadow I couldn't shake.

It wasn't the first bad dream I'd had lately. They came more often now, their jagged edges cutting into the peace of my nights and leaving me restless during the day.

"Emily!" Lily's cheerful voice broke through my thoughts, yanking me back to the present. I blinked up from the book and saw her standing by the door, her cheeks flushed and her smile bright. She was already bundled up in her thick coat and scarf, a pair of mittens dangling from the sleeves. Behind her, Sam sat on the bench in the mudroom, lacing up his boots with an eager grin plastered across his face. His breath fogged the glass of the nearby window as he leaned closer to check the snow outside.

"Come outside!" Lily said again, her excitement almost bouncing off the walls. "It's perfect snowball weather!"

I hesitated, glancing back down at the open book in my lap. The words blurred together, no more engaging now than they had been before. A part of me wanted to stay put, to bury myself in the warm cocoon of the couch and let the world outside carry on without me. The nightmare still weighed on me, its grip stubborn and heavy. My arms felt leaden, my chest tight.

"I don't know..." I began, trailing off as I glanced toward the window. The snow was beautiful, I couldn't deny that. It lay like a soft, shimmering blanket over everything.

Lily tilted her head, her smile fading just a little. "Come on, Emmy," she said, using the nickname she knew I couldn't resist. "It'll be fun! You've been in here all morning."

"I'm not sure..." My voice was barely louder than a whisper. I tightened my grip on the blanket, the fabric suddenly feeling rough against my fingers.

"Please?" she added, her tone softening. "It's no fun without you."

I sighed, looking back down at the book, then at Lily, and finally at Sam, who had finished tying his boots and was now standing at the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looked like he might burst if I said no.

"All right," I said at last, setting the book aside with care, though my decision felt less like enthusiasm and more like surrender. I couldn't disappoint them, not today.

"Just let me grab my boots," I added, but as I moved to stand, the blanket slipped from my lap and fell to the floor, and with it, a small, folded piece of paper. I froze, staring at it. My chest tightened further. I hadn't even realized it was still there—tucked between the pages of the book as a makeshift bookmark, but its presence felt almost mocking now.

"What's that?" Lily asked, stepping closer.

"Nothing," I said quickly, snatching it up before she could see. My fingers trembled as I folded it tighter, slipping it into my pocket. "Just a note."

It wasn't just a note, though. It was part of the dream—no, a leftover piece of it. A scribble I'd written down in the middle of the night, hoping to make sense of the nightmare when the morning light came. But the words hadn't helped. If anything, they only deepened the unease that coiled in my stomach.

Lily didn't press. She was already too eager to get outside. "Hurry up, then!" she chirped, spinning toward the door. "We'll wait!"

Sam gave me a thumbs-up, his enthusiasm unwavering.

I stayed where I was for a moment, the paper burning in my pocket, the weight of the dream clawing at the edges of my mind. I glanced back at the fireplace, watching the flames dance and crackle. Their warmth didn't quite reach me.

"Be right there," I said finally, though my voice wavered just enough to betray my hesitation.

As they turned away, chattering to each other about snow forts and sneak attacks, I sank back onto the couch for a moment longer, staring out at the falling snow. It was beautiful, yes—but today, even its beauty couldn't chase away the shadow lingering over me.

The yard was a sparkling wonderland, the snow crisp and untouched, glinting in the pale sunlight like a field of diamonds. The trees wore thick coats of white, their bare branches bending slightly under the weight. My boots crunched against the snow as I stepped outside, the cold air nipping at my cheeks. For a moment, I paused, taking it all in—the sheer stillness of the world, broken only by the distant caw of a crow and the sound of Lily's laughter bubbling in the air.

Before I could take another step, a snowball came sailing through the air and hit me squarely on the shoulder with a soft thud.

"You're it!" Lily declared triumphantly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with mischief. She spun on her heel and darted off, her boots leaving deep, uneven tracks in the snow. Her scarf trailed behind her like a comet's tail as she laughed.

"Oh, it's on," I called back, a grin spreading across my face despite myself. I bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, feeling its cold, powdery texture against my gloves. Packing it into a tight ball, I aimed for her retreating form and let it fly. It missed by a mile, landing harmlessly in a snowbank, but the effort sent a surge of excitement through me.

Sam, who had been lagging behind to inspect a patch of icicles hanging from the porch roof, joined in without hesitation. "Nice shot, Emily," he teased, already crouching to gather his own ammunition. His snowball came whizzing past me and struck the side of Lily's jacket, leaving a white smear on the dark fabric.

"Hey!" she cried, spinning around to retaliate. Her snowball hit Sam on the arm, and he let out an exaggerated yelp of pain before flopping dramatically into the snow.

"Oh no, I've been hit!" he groaned, clutching his chest like he was in the middle of some old war movie. "Tell Mom I went down bravely."

Lily and I burst into laughter, our voices echoing across the yard. "You're ridiculous!" Lily said, her giggles shaking her small frame as she bent down to gather more snow.

Sam was back on his feet in an instant, his face a mask of determination. "Ridiculous? We'll see about that," he said, launching a volley of snowballs with surprising speed and accuracy.

What followed was pure chaos. Snowballs flew through the air, landing with soft thuds or scattering into white powder on impact. I dodged one from Sam, only to get hit by one of Lily's sneak attacks. My gloves and coat were soon dusted with snow, and the cold air stung my face, but I couldn't stop laughing.

For a while, the heaviness in my chest melted away, replaced by the simple joy of being here, with them, surrounded by the glittering snow and the sound of our laughter.

At one point, Sam was chasing Lily around the yard when his boot caught on an icy patch. He stumbled forward, arms flailing, before landing face-first in a snowbank. A puff of powdery snow erupted into the air around him, sparkling in the sunlight.

Lily and I froze for a second before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. I doubled over, clutching my sides, while Lily fell to her knees, gasping for breath between giggles.

When Sam finally sat up, his face was red with a mix of cold and mock indignation, his hair dusted with snow. "Glad you two find this so funny," he said, trying to look serious but failing as a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"It was like slow motion!" Lily wheezed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You looked like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel."

Sam shook his head, brushing the snow off his coat. "You two are going to regret this," he said, packing a snowball with meticulous precision. His grin turned wicked, and we both screamed as he lunged toward us, snowball in hand.

The game went on until we were breathless and our cheeks ached from smiling. By then, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, painting the snow in soft shades of gold and pink.

As we trudged back toward the house, our clothes damp and our noses red, I realized how much I had needed this—the laughter, the lightness, the reminder that not every day had to feel so heavy.

When we finally called a truce, we collapsed onto the snowy ground, our breaths puffing visibly in the chilly air. The cold seeped through my coat, but I didn't care. We lay there in a heap of exhaustion and laughter, staring up at the gray sky as snowflakes drifted lazily down around us. It felt like we were the only ones in the world, surrounded by nothing but the crisp stillness of winter.

"This is the best snow day ever," Lily said, her voice brimming with contentment. She turned her head to look at me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. "Don't you think, Emily?"

I nodded, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah. It's pretty great." My chest felt lighter, like the laughter and fresh air had swept away some of the heaviness, even if only for a little while.

Sam propped himself up on his elbows, brushing a layer of snow off his coat. "We should build something," he said, his tone suddenly animated. "A fort or a snowman."

Lily's grin widened, her energy seeming to bounce back all at once. "Or both!" she exclaimed, sitting up straight. "We could make the snowman part of the fort—like a snow guard or something!"

I stayed where I was, letting their ideas swirl around me like the snowflakes overhead. The thought of building another fort made me chuckle quietly to myself. This wouldn't be the first—or the second or third—snow fort we'd constructed in our yard. How many forts did we have out here now? Four? Five? I glanced over at the neighbors' houses, imagining what they must think when they look out their windows at our ever-growing collection of snow sculptures. Mrs. Baker from next door had once commented about the "creative energy" we brought to the block. I wasn't sure if she'd meant it as a compliment or a polite way of saying we made the yard look chaotic. Then there was old Mr. Granger, two houses down, who liked to keep his lawn pristine even in winter. He never said anything to us directly, but I'd caught him shaking his head a few times when he thought no one was looking.

"Emily!" Lily's voice jolted me out of my thoughts. "What do you think? Should we build the fort around the big tree over there?" She pointed to the oak in the far corner of the yard, its bare branches dusted with snow.

I hesitated, then shrugged, sitting up and brushing the snow off my gloves. "Sure. That's a good spot." I glanced over at the tree, already picturing how they'd try to pile snow against its wide trunk and make "battlements" that would probably collapse after the first attack.

Sam was already on his feet, tugging his hat down over his ears. "Let's make it huge this time," he said. "Like, big enough for all three of us to sit inside. And with actual walls that don't fall over."

"Good luck with that," I said, smirking.

"Hey, it could happen!" Lily shot back, her expression determined. "We'll make the best fort yet. Just you wait."

As they started gathering snow, chattering excitedly about designs and snowball stashes, I stayed back for a moment, leaning against a small drift and watching them. Their laughter filled the cold air, warm and light and unbothered. For a little while, it was enough to just sit and listen, letting their voices push back the quiet in my mind.

But as peaceful as the moment was, I couldn't stop the memory of the nightmare from creeping in, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. It was like a shadow in the back of my mind, faint but impossible to ignore. Even now, surrounded by the beauty of the snow and the joy of my siblings, it lingered, reminding me that the warmth of this moment couldn't last forever.

I sighed, pushing the thought away as best as I could. For now, I'd stay in the moment. I'd let Lily and Sam's excitement carry me forward, just like it always did.

By the time we were too cold and tired to keep going, the sky was starting to darken, streaked with shades of pale pink and deep orange, like a watercolor painting brushed across the horizon. The crisp air nipped at our noses as we trudged back toward the house, our boots crunching through the snow, leaving a trail of uneven prints behind us. Each step felt heavier than the last, my legs aching from the hours spent running, climbing, and diving into the snow.

When we stepped into the warmth of the house, a wave of heat enveloped us, making my cheeks tingle as they adjusted from the biting cold. Our boots left a messy trail of snow and slush on the hardwood floor, but none of us cared. The rich, sweet smell of chocolate filled the air, wrapping around us like a cozy blanket.

Mrs. Blake was in the kitchen, her movements light and graceful as she placed steaming mugs of hot cocoa on the counter. Each one was topped with a cloud of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon that glistened under the soft yellow glow of the kitchen light.

"You three look like you had fun," she said, her voice warm and inviting as she handed me a mug. Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, the way they always did.

"Sam made a ramp," Lily said, her voice brimming with awe and a hint of disbelief. "But he kinda crashed."

Mrs. Blake chuckled, shaking her head as if she wasn't surprised in the slightest. "That sounds about right," she said, her tone fond and amused.

We shuffled into the living room, drawn to the crackling fire that painted the walls with flickering shadows. The air smelled of pinewood and cocoa, and the fire's warmth seeped into my frozen fingers, chasing away the lingering chill. Lily and Sam plopped onto the thick rug in front of the hearth, already chattering about their next big adventure.

"We could build a whole castle tomorrow," Sam said, his hands waving excitedly as he described towers and moats. "Bigger than anything we've ever done before."

"Yeah!" Lily agreed, her eyes shining. "We could make tunnels too, like secret passageways."

I settled into the armchair nearest the fire, tucking my legs beneath me and cradling the warm mug in my hands. The heat seeped into my palms, making me realize how cold they'd been. I took a small sip of the cocoa, the sweet, velvety liquid soothing my throat and chasing away the last of the winter's bite.

Their voices faded into the background as I stared into the dancing flames. The nightmare from the night before still clung to me, its edges blurred but not entirely gone. I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, the suffocating fear that had jolted me awake in the middle of the night. But now, with the warmth of the fire and the sound of laughter filling the room, the memory felt distant, like a shadow receding into the corners of my mind.

"Emily," Lily's voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. She was looking at me with wide, eager eyes. "Do you want to help us with the fort tomorrow? We could make it even bigger than last time."

I hesitated, the familiar tug of uncertainty holding me back for just a moment. But then I saw their faces—bright, hopeful, and unburdened by the weight of bad dreams or lingering fears. I let their enthusiasm pull me in like a current, washing away the hesitation.

A small smile crept onto my lips, and I nodded. "Yeah, that sounds fun."

Their cheers filled the room, echoing off the walls like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. For the first time all day, the heaviness in my chest lifted, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire or the cocoa. It was the kind of warmth that came from belonging, from being part of something simple and good.

As the snow continued to fall outside, the world beyond the windows grew softer and quieter, muffled by the thick blanket of white. The snowflakes danced in the glow of the porch light, swirling and twirling as if caught in some secret rhythm of the night. Inside, the contrast was striking: the warmth of the house embraced me, its steady hum of life soothing and familiar.

I let myself sink deeper into the comfort of the moment. The warmth of the cocoa in my hands radiated outward, its rich chocolatey scent mixing with the faint aroma of pine from the garland on the mantle. Each sip was a little piece of heaven, the creamy sweetness lingering on my tongue. The crackle of the fire filled the silence between bursts of conversation, its flames leaping and flickering like tiny dancers in an endless performance.

Sam and Lily were still sprawled out on the rug, their voices rising and falling as they planned the details of tomorrow's grand snow fort. Sam's enthusiasm was contagious, his words tumbling out faster than he could form them, while Lily countered with her own suggestions, her tone just as animated.

"We need a flag this time!" Sam declared, his face lit up with excitement. "Something to show it's ours, like... like a pirate ship!"

"Pirates don't build castles," Lily teased, her laughter light and airy. "Maybe we could be knights instead."

Their playful banter filled the room, bouncing off the walls and mingling with the soft rustling of the fire. I leaned back in the armchair, pulling the knitted blanket over my legs and letting its texture soothe me. The gentle hum of their conversation wrapped around me like a second blanket, warm and comforting, a melody of life that eased the sharp edges of my thoughts.

The nightmare still lingered at the edges of my mind, a shadow that refused to fully fade. I could still feel it, cold and oppressive, like a storm threatening on the horizon. But here, in this house, it felt smaller, less significant. The walls of this space—painted with laughter and warmth, with the unspoken kindness of people who cared—kept the darkness at bay.

Through the frosted windows, the snow kept falling, piling higher and higher on the sill. The outside world seemed distant and unreal, a silent expanse of white that couldn't touch us here. The steady rhythm of the fire and the lively chatter in the room anchored me, pulling me back every time my mind began to wander.

I watched the flames for a long moment, their glow reflecting in the cocoa in my mug. The firelight painted the room in hues of gold and amber, making everything feel a little softer, a little safer. The nightmare wasn't gone—its presence still clung to me like the last chill of the winter air—but here, in this house, it felt like just that: a dream.

And for now, that was enough.