The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling like the star atop their tree. "Because 'dalbe' isn't just white, Luca. It’s the color of the first snow that hasn’t been touched by a single footstep. It’s the color of peace."
Little Luca sat by the frosted window, humming a familiar tune: "Moș Crăciun cu plete dalbe..." He looked at his grandfather, who was stoking the fire. "Grandpa, why does the song say his hair is 'dalbe'?" The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling like
Suddenly, a soft thump-thump echoed from the roof. Luca froze. Outside, the village children began to gather, their voices rising in a clear, rhythmic chorus. They were singing the winter carols—the Cântece de iarnă —that had been passed down for a hundred years. It’s the color of peace
By the time the final note of the carol faded, the figure was gone, leaving only a trail of shimmering frost and the warmth of a song that would stay in Luca’s heart until the snow melted in the spring. Outside, the village children began to gather, their