Look Who’s Arrived at ZANABIA
Just when ZANABIA thought it had seen everything—talking trees arguing with philosophers, winged rabbits demanding extra scarves, and ice hockey refereed by owls with spectacles—the sky cleared, the snow politely stepped aside, and they arrived. Not quietly. Never quietly. First came the banners. Big ones. Loud ones. Ones that fluttered as if they knew they were important. ZANABIA FOOD FEST, they announced, and immediately the town understood: this was not a visit, this was an event. And then came the guests—heroes, legends, caped personalities, cosmic beings, cartoonish charmers, and a few individuals who looked like they bench-press planets before breakfast. Yet the most surprising thing? They didn’t arrive to conquer. They arrived… hungry. A blue-armoured giant raised a mug of frothy cheer and squinted at a pretzel like it was an ancient artifact. A glowing-eyed cosmic fellow debated seriously whether soup should be sipped or respected. A rabbit-eared hero declared pizza a “moral victory.” Somewhere in the middle of it all, an elf took notes, a dwarf guarded the pretzels like state secrets, and a fox in a scarf declared the festival “emotionally fulfilling.” ZANABIANS, being ZANABIANS, barely blinked. “Oh good,” said one local with antlers and mittens. “More mouths. Winter portions finally make sense.” Soon, the lines between worlds dissolved faster than cheese on hot dough. Heroes removed helmets to complain about cold ears. Cartoon legends learned that flying in snowfall requires practice. Cosmic beings discovered that no power in the universe protects you from food stains. Laughter bounced off the snowbanks. Toasts were raised—for peace, for warmth, for extra gravy. Children from ZANABIA taught visiting champions how to skate without dignity. Elders explained that sharing food is the fastest peace treaty known to existence. Someone started music. Someone else started dancing. No one remembered who started eating again—but everyone did. By nightfall, bellies were full, egos were deflated, and the only battles left were over the last pretzel. ZANABIA, as always, didn’t try to impress. It simply welcomed. And that, perhaps, is why everyone stayed longer than planned. Because in ZANABIA, even legends are allowed to be human—cold hands, warm hearts, and crumbs on their capes.
