She had made the decision.  Unsure.  Not quite sure why it was hers to begin with.  A peace offering from when her brother threw her stuffed bear out the hotel window laughing as it crashed onto the roof below and laughing even harder when she tried dangling a piece of string hoping to lasso Berry Bear from certain death by rain, sunshine, wind or snow.  They had given her a square of sugar telling her it would give her energy.  Abigail ripped open the paper plopping the square cube into her mouth.  Her brother giggled again.  He had already eaten three sugar cubes.  He had already had two bowls of hot piping chicken noodle soup with no chicken and something that looked like dehydrated carrots.  He had already slurped down three cokes, too.  Abigail had sampled the soup spitting the carrots out with her tongue.

She licked the sugar cube with her tongue and examined the two signs staked at the parking lot's edge.  One pointed up the mountain.  One pointed down to the river.  She could not see the top of the mountain or the river or even hear it gurgling along.  She gripped the brochure with grubby hands and stared at the picture of the red and white cottage inn that stood on snow banks at the top of the giant hill.  If she climbed to the top, she thought, maybe a big bowl of vegetable soup or even chicken noodle would await.  She knew there would be only icicles and frozen water at the bottom.  She loosened a grimy hand from the colorful piece of paper and formed it into a fist and one finger.  She pointed up the hill, up the steep windy trail, away from the giggling couple dressed in thick black sweaters and brown trousers who had gaily gone in the other direction, yes she pointed up to the top where the wind would be blowing the hardest.

Her brother, Fred, grabbed her finger and pointed up the hill and chuckled again.  He skipped ahead of their parents, turned around and giggled some more.  He began climbing the hill skipping along like it was the easiest thing, the simplest hike for a twelve year old.  Abigail was only seven.  Her legs were shorter.  She trudged forward.

The trail was sharp, steep and turned in snake winding curves that wig wagged their way up the rocky trail.  She had finally given up trying to keep her hair from her eyes preferring to keep her hands shoved into the blue and white patterned gloves her mother had knitted her for Christmas.  It was the day after Christmas and all she wanted to do was to be at home playing with her new artist's drawing board.  Instead, the family had boarded a plane to the Alps somewhere in Switzerland to visit relatives, to sleep on pallets on their floors and to unwrap handmade gifts of stuffed frogs and candy that didn't taste as sweet as the candy bars she would buy with her allowance money at Jacob's General store in western Tennessee.

Halfway up, her Dad offered her another sugar cube.  She unwrapped the square block and licked it and then licked it three more times before popping it in her mouth.  The sugar cube was rough on her tongue.

Abigail bit into the cube and looked up the hill.  Fred was two curves ahead of them stopping every so often to look down, point, laugh, and climb some more.

Abigail's Mom whispered, "We're almost to the top, dear.  Not much longer now.  Then you can have a good rest."

Abigail sighed, nodded and plodded along.  She knew if she cried her Dad would pick her up and carry her but if Fred was walking the trail she could too.  She was determined to make it to the top of the hill.
She bit harder into the sugar cube.  She wrinkled her forehead and plowed ahead.

The trail was mostly uneven curves that scaled the hill.  The hill was within a dense forest of pines.  Snow dangled along the branches and a bit of sun sparkled through the openings.  Abigail chewed on the sugar cube telling herself she should just let it melt but still chewing it all the same.

Fred was almost to the top.  He would cup his hands around his mouth and holler down that everyone needed to hurry up.

Abigail cringed at Fred's voice.  She wanted to stop and make a snowball and throw it at his head but she was too tired and she knew her parents would stop her anyway.  There were two s-curves from the top.  Fred's footsteps paced above them.  She marched forward and stopped.

"What is it Abigail?  We're almost there."

Abigail blinked and smiled at her Mom.  "It's too far, Mom.  I'm too tired.  If you can carry me--.  I don't think I can go any farther."

Abigail's Dad leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.  "Are you sure, honey?  You want another sugar cube?"

Abigail shook her head.  "No.  I'm just tired.  It's too far.  Can't we go back?  Please."

Abigail's Mom bent over and shrugged.  "I don't think we can carry you honey.  We'll head back to the rental car, okay?"  She stood and cupped her hands.  "Fred!  Fred.  Come down here, please.

We're turning around."

Fred yelled, "But Mom!"

"Fred.  Don't make me holler for you again."

A few minutes later, Fred's head and bundled up body began bobbing towards them in flashes of red, yellow and green.  Abigail squinted as she looked through the trees.  Her Dad squeezed her hands and grinned.

"How about we go back to the café and get a bowl of hot soup?  How does that sound?"

Abigail looked up at her Mom and smiled.  "Thanks, Mom.  That sounds great."

Fred scooted up behind her and thumped her in the head.  "Wimp!"

"Fred!  Enough of that.  Let's go."  Their Dad grabbed Fred by the collar and pointed him down the trail.  Fred shuffled his feet but began the trudge down hill.

"Maybe some other time, honey."

Abigail grabbed her Mom's hand and gave it a tug.  "Thanks, Mom."

Fred ran by, whacked her on the head and muttered, "Thanks, Mom."

Abigail squeezed her Mom's hand a little tighter as they trekked through the snow to the orange mini van parked in the corner of the lot.  The car belonging to the couple who'd taken the path down to the river was the only other car in the lot.  Abigail sighed wondering if the river path would have been any easier.  She scrambled into the back of the van and fastened her seat belt.  Fred crawled into the third row seat in the back and stretched out covering his face with his coat.  Abigail thought about what they might have seen if they had gone all the way to the top of the trail.  Then she thought about a hot bowl of soup and a warm bath.  She stretched her arms and yawned.  Her parents climbed into the front seat and smiled.  Her Dad reached back and handed her a sugar cube.  She smiled, unwrapped the white paper and popped it in her mouth.