Wintersmith

up with Annagramma and old Mr. Tissot, except that he was lying down because he was dead. Tiffany had never liked watching over the dead. It wasn’t exactly something you could like. It was always a relief when the sky turned gray and the birds started to sing.
    Sometimes, in the night, Mr. Tissot made little noises. Except, of course, it wasn’t Mr. Tissot, who’d met Death hours ago. It was just the body he’d left behind, and the sounds it made were really no different from the noises made by an old house as it cooled down.
    It was important to remember these things around two o’clock in the morning. Vitally important, when the candle flickered.
    Annagramma snored. No one with a nose that small should be able to make a snore that loud. It was like ripping planks. Whatever evil spirits might be around on this night, that sound would probably scare them away.
    It wasn’t the gnh gnh gnh part that was so bad, and Tiffany could live with the bloooooorrrrt! It was the gap between them, after the gnh gnh gnh had wound up but before the long letdown of the bloooooorrrrt! that really got on her nerves. It was never the same length twice. Sometimes there was gnh gnh gnh bloooooorrrrt! , one right after the other, and then there might be such a huge gap after gnh gnh gnh that Tiffany found herself holding her breath while she waited for the bloooooorrrrt! It wouldn’t have been so bad if Annagramma had stuck to one length of pause. Sometimes she stopped altogether, and there was blessed silence until a festival of bloorts began, usually with a faint mni mni lip-smacking sound as Annagramma shifted position in her chair.
    Where are you, Flower Lady? What are you? You should be sleeping!
    The voice was so faint that Tiffany might not have heard it at all if she hadn’t been all tensed up waiting for the next gnh gnh gnh . And here it came—
    Gnh gnh gnh!
    Let me show you my world, Flower Lady. Let me show you all the colors of ice!
    BLOOOOOORRRRT!
    About three quarters of Tiffany thought: Oh, no! Will he find me if I reply? No. If he could find me, he’d be here. My hand isn’t itching.
    The other quarter thought: A god or godlike being is talking to me and I could really do without the snoring, Annagramma, thank you so much.
    Gnh gnh gnh!
    “I said I was sorry,” she whispered into the dancing candlelight. “I saw the iceberg. It was very…er…nice of you.”
    I have made many more.
    BLOOOOOORRRRT!
    Many more icebergs, thought Tiffany. Great big freezing, floating mountains that look like me, dragging fog banks and snowstorms behind them. I wonder how many ships will run into them.
    “You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble,” she whispered.
    Now I am growing stronger! I am listening and learning! I am understanding humans!
    Outside the cottage window a thrush began to sing. Tiffany blew out the candle, and gray light crept into the room.
    Listening and learning…how could a blizzard understand things?
    Tiffany, Flower Lady! I am making myself a man!
    There was a complicated grunting as Annagramma’s gnh gnh gnh and bloooooorrrrt! ran into each other and she woke up.
    “Ah,” she said, stretching her arms and yawning. She looked around. “Well, that seemed to go well.”
    Tiffany stared at the wall. What did he mean, making himself a man? Surely he—
    “You didn’t fall asleep, did you, Tiffany?” said Annagramma in what she probably thought was a playful voice. “Not even for one tiny little second?”
    “What?” said Tiffany, glaring at the wall. “Oh…no. I didn’t!”
    People were moving around downstairs. After a little while there was a creaking on the stairs and the low door was pushed open. A middle-aged man, looking sheepishly at the floor, uttered, “Mam says would you ladies like some breakfast?”
    “Oh, no, we couldn’t possibly take what little you have—” Annagramma began.
    “Yes, please, we will be grateful,” said Tiffany, louder and quicker. The man nodded, and shut the door.
    “Oh, how could you say that?” said Annagramma, as his footsteps creaked down. “These are poor people! I thought you would—”
    “Shut up, will you?” snapped Tiffany. “Just shut up and wake up! These are real people! They’re not some kind of, of, of idea! We will go down there and we will eat breakfast and we’ll say how good it is and then we will thank them and they will thank us and we will go! And that will mean everyone has done the right thing by custom, and that