Ab in die Berge

Jamie’s parents’ cabin was tucked away in the middle of the mountains. Surrounded by snow and with smoke rising from the chimney, it looked incredibly inviting.

Jamie: “We’re here. Leave your worries behind. We’re just going to enjoy the weekend.”

We brought our luggage inside and immediately headed for the slopes — we wanted to make the most of our short time away. The snow thrilled me. I couldn’t help myself and threw huge amounts of it into the air.

Jamie: “Gillian, that’s enough.”

From my enthusiastic snow-throwing, poor Jamie was soon covered in a thick layer of snow. That evening, Jamie lit a fire outside and we roasted marshmallows. His was already nearly black.

Gillian: “Wow… that’s a lot of roasted flavor. Must taste very intense.”

Jamie: “That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. Crispy and bold. Not really for girls.”

The next morning, we built a snowman in front of the house. And of course — purely by accident — one or two snowballs landed on Jamie’s head.

Gillian: “Oops… that one must have slipped out of my hand. And this one here is wobbling quite a bit too.”

Jamie: “No — don’t you dare do that again!”

Later, we warmed ourselves by the open fireplace.

Gillian: “This really was an amazing weekend, Jamie. I had so much fun with you. I feel so much better now. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Jamie: “I knew you’d like it. And by the way, I had a great time too. We should do this more often. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

When we returned the next day, Brian was waiting with bad news.

Brian: “Gillian, good thing you’re back. Some of the animals are gone. We searched everywhere… nothing. We think they were stolen.”

Gillian: “Cattle thieves? Here? This isn’t the Wild West.”

He explained that all animals had been there during evening feeding. But the next morning, several cows, sheep, pigs — even chickens and donkeys — were missing. They had searched the entire area. Not a single animal found. Maybe they really had been stolen. I was just about to call the police when a patrol car drove up. A police officer and the mayor of Silverglade stepped out.

Officer: “Are you Gillian Meadowland?”

Mayor: “Ms. Meadowland, you are organizing an unregistered and unauthorized animal event at Moorland Stables. Do you even have insurance for this?”

Jamie: “Gillian, what’s going on?”

We were robbed — and now I was being accused of something? I had to clear this up. As soon as they left, Jamie and I drove straight to Moorland. On the small riding arena, we saw what this was about. Mary — our Mary — stood there with the entire group of missing animals, letting people pet them in exchange for money. Without asking. Without informing anyone. Apparently, she had taken my speech about bringing in ideas and improvements a little too literally. I was furious.

Gillian: “Are you seeing what I’m seeing? That’s Mary… and those are our animals! What on earth is going on in that girl’s head?!”

Jamie: “Ha! I’ve never seen you this angry. It suits you. I’m sure she meant well.”

Jamie brought the transporter and returned all the animals safely to Meadowland.

Jamie: “Everyone’s back where they belong. So… what’s happening with Mary?”

Gillian: “I fired her and banned her from the property! … I’ll call her the day after tomorrow and hire her again.”