Juno and the Missing Snow Nose

Juno counted her snow mammoths twice. The smallest one still had no nose.

“There should be four,” she said, patting the little sculpture’s round head. “One for Mama Sella, one for Papa Bram, one for my brother Kitt, and one for me.”

The snow family stood in a snowy hollow beside a frozen stream. Juno had made each mammoth a wide back, four sturdy legs, and curly tusks. She had even pressed little ear shapes into the sides of their heads. The smallest mammoth looked very much like Juno—except for its bare, snowy face.

Her snowball nose had been just the right size. She had set it beside the sculpture while she shaped a tusk. Then a little bump from her elbow sent it rolling across the hollow.

“Where did it go?” Juno asked.

A breeze combed the tops of the snowdrifts. Mama Sella looked toward the trees. “The evening wind will be here soon. Let’s help you search.”

Juno spotted a row of round marks leading away from the sculpture. “Footprints!” she cried. “Maybe someone carried my nose.”

Papa Bram bent to look. “Those marks are very round,” he said. “But let’s see where they lead.”

The marks made one winding trail around a hummock. It curved close to a drift shaped like a sleeping seal, then bent toward a cluster of frosted rocks and continued toward the frozen stream. From where Juno stood, each turn seemed to point to a different place.

Juno’s ears lifted. “Three places to look!”

She hurried to the seal-shaped drift first. She poked around its snowy flippers, but found only a smooth patch where the wind had brushed the snow. At the rocks, Kitt checked every gap while Juno peered behind a white stone. No nose waited there, either.

The same line of marks led on toward the stream. Juno paused. The ice was thick and still, and she remembered Mama’s rule: stay on the snowy bank. She followed the trail from the safe side, looking carefully at each round dent.

“Maybe the nose rolled right to the water,” Kitt said.

Juno studied the marks. They were spaced oddly, with no small toes or heel shapes at all. Still, the trail vanished behind a low ridge.

The breeze stirred again. Juno turned toward the ridge. “One more clue,” she said. “Let’s find out what made those marks.”

Juno, Kitt, and Papa Bram walked to the low ridge. From there, they could see the marks more clearly. Each round dent had a little mound of pushed-up snow at one end. The next dent sat just ahead, then another, then another.

“Those aren’t footprints,” Juno said. “A foot would lift up. These marks look like something kept bumping along.”

Kitt’s trunk curled into a happy question mark. “Your snowball!”

Juno followed the line with her eyes. It crossed the hollow, curved past the rocks, and ended at a bank shaped like a big crescent. The bank bent around a hollow in the snow.

“My nose rolled all the way there,” Juno said. “The curved bank stopped it!”

She padded to the hollow. There, tucked snugly against the bank, sat her snowball. It was still round, but it had picked up extra snow as it rolled. Now it was almost as big as Kitt’s head.

Juno tried to lift it. The ball wobbled, and she set it down carefully.

“It’s too big for your little mammoth,” Papa Bram said. “Could you make it smaller?”

Juno looked from the ball to the sculpture. She did not want to break the snowball into lumpy pieces. Then she noticed a smooth stretch of hard-packed snow beside the bank. Its crusty surface glinted in the light.

“I can roll it along here,” she said. “The firm snow will scrape its outer layer away as it rolls.”

She leaned her shoulder against the ball and pushed. It rolled a short way, pressing a neat track into the hard surface. Kitt watched the sculpture and called, “Still too big!”

Juno rolled it again, gently this time. The crusty snow scraped off a thin layer, which crumbled beside the track. The ball grew smaller. She stopped to compare it with the little mammoth’s face, then rolled it once more.

“Just right!” Juno said.

She nudged the ball back to the sculpture and lifted it with both forelegs. The breeze tugged at her woolly coat, but she planted her feet and held steady. Papa Bram stood close, ready to help without taking over.

Juno pressed the round nose into the center of the little mammoth’s face. It fit snugly. She smoothed the edges with her trunk, then stepped back.

The smallest mammoth looked complete at last. Juno grinned. “Now our family can stand together.”

The four snow mammoths stood in a row, their tusks curved like little moons. The smallest one had a round nose right in the middle of its face, and Juno liked how it seemed to be looking back at her.

Kitt leaned close to the sculpture. “It looks like you’re saying hello.”

Juno gave the snow mammoth a tiny nod. “Hello, little me.”

The evening air grew cooler. The breeze moved across the hollow, but it was no longer a puzzle to solve or a race to finish. It only brushed the snow and whispered through the tall grass poking from the drifts.

Mama Sella stood beside Juno. “You followed the clues all the way to the answer.”

“I thought the marks were footprints,” Juno said. “But they were made by something rolling.”

“And you found a way to make the ball fit,” Papa Bram added.

Juno looked at the long trail of round dents. The marks seemed like a story written across the hollow: a snowball starting out, bumping over the snow, and coming to rest where the curved bank had caught it. She liked that a trail could hold a secret until someone looked closely.

Kitt copied the little mammoth’s pose, lifting his trunk and standing very still. Juno copied him. Mama and Papa joined in, and for a moment the whole family stood like four statues beside their snowy family of four.

Then Kitt wiggled. “I’m not made of snow,” he said.

“No,” Juno replied. “You’re much warmer.”

They brushed the snow from their coats and walked together toward their cozy resting place. Behind them, the sculptures stayed in the hollow, facing the frozen stream. The evening sky took on the color of ripe apricots, and the first stars appeared above the dark trees.

Juno glanced back once. The little snow mammoth’s nose was still firmly in place. She pictured the round trail, the curved bank, and the moment the missing nose had turned up in its snowy pocket.

Safe beside her family, she curled beneath a thick blanket. Kitt settled close, and Mama’s familiar voice told a quiet story about a faraway herd. Juno listened as the hollow grew still, while the four snowy mammoths kept their places beneath the stars.