Page 32

Something was howling outside.

I put down the file and the wood and sat listening. Another howl, then a third. Wolves. And more than one. A small pack. They were far away, but I nearly shivered. It was rare to hear wolves in Norstad, but perhaps this incessant snowfall had driven them closer to town?

I continued my work, putting the file to a hoof, letting my mind wander again. To Lilja. What else to get her for Christmas? I had already bought her those felted mittens I had joked about and a shawl, since she always wore one. This one was red, knitted by Mrs. Wilhelmsson. From my uncle’s store I had bought a vase in pale pink porcelain so that when spring and summer came, she could keep a bouquet in her room. I was almost sure Lilja would like it all, but none of it seemed exactly right. I wanted to get her something that would chase all of that somberness from her face, even if only for a moment.

My musings were ripped apart by another howl outside. This time a shiver crept up my back, and the fine hairs on my arms stood up, although I couldn’t quite say why. The wolves were far away, the workshop warm from hours of fire in the oven.

Ignoring the sensation, I kept working, exchanging the file for sandpaper, but I couldn’t concentrate. I glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. That was why, then. I needed sleep. But first…

Leaving the horse on my bench, I hung up the file, picked up the lamp and…

No, this was silly. Nothing was out there. I ought to just go to bed. Tomorrow was another long day of work.

But something I couldn’t name pulled at me, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep if I didn’t do this.

Instead of the corridor to my room, I walked through to the store. The lamp cast its light toward the corners, the movement as it dangled from my hand making the shadows of the toys on the shelves dance like living things.

I stopped in front of the door, and as I put my hand on the handle, there was another howl. It sounded louder than before, but no doubt that was only because I was closer to a window. I ought to just go to bed. This strange sensation was nothing but my body reacting to the presence of a predator.

But…

I wasn’t even really sure what the but in my mind meant, only that I felt that pull again to look outside. I pushed down the handle and opened the door. Cold air poured in, seeping through my clothes, and I sucked in a breath as goose bumps ran up my arms and legs. The street ought to be empty this late. In summer a few stragglers might be on their way home from a festive night at this hour, but not in winter. Especially not a winter like this.

But I didn’t find Storgatan empty because a woman was walking west. She had her back to me. Her hair was as pale as bone, and she was wearing a blue cloak with what looked like ermine lining. Before I could get a better impression, she disappeared around the corner.

I held the lamp higher and studied the ground. It had snowed just a few hours ago, and the newly fallen flakes had covered the day’s footprints. Only one set disturbed the pristine surface of the snow in the street. They began at the east end of Storgatan, going in a straight line down the middle of the road until they veered off, leading straight to… well, to me. Or rather, the window right beside me. Below it, the footsteps were a jumble, as if she had stood there a while, gazing through the glass.

Perhaps she was on the way home and had decided to swing by my shop to get a look at my wares? It was Christmas soon, after all. Except the store was dark as pitch and the nearest streetlight wasn’t close. She couldn’t see a thing through the glass. I searched my mind. Did I recognize her? That hair color was unusual, and I couldn’t recall anyone with hair so pale. And that cloak. No one in Norstad wore ermine.

My teeth were chattering, and I pulled the door closed again.

“Is someone out there?”

I startled and spun around. Lilja was standing behind me. She was wearing one of Helena’s nightgowns, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her hair loose down her back like the first time I had seen her.

“No,” I said, and the lie just marched right out of my mouth like one of my wooden soldiers because she looked so frightened.

“I heard the wolves.”

“They’re far away.”

She glanced behind me at the door.

“It’s locked,” I said. “Come on. It’s too cold out here.”

I led her back to the workshop, closing the door behind us to keep in the warmth.

“Did the wolves wake you?” I asked. “Or was it me bumbling around?”

“The wolves.”

“They won’t come into town. Wolves are scared of people.”

“Not all wolves and not all people.”

She blinked at the workshop’s window, and I followed her gaze. The frost flowers from the other day bloomed on the glass, intricate like the etchings on a silver locket.

“It’s very cold,” I said. “That’s why they look that way.”