Wintersmith

behind the Door, she’d faced dogs with razor teeth…they were not things she wanted to remember. And on top of all that, there was the Wintersmith.
    He couldn’t find her without the horse, everyone was sure of that. He could speak in her head, and she could speak to him, but that was a kind of magic and didn’t have anything to do with maps.
    He’d been quiet for a while. He was probably building icebergs.
    She landed the broomstick on a small bald hill among the trees. There was no cottage to be seen.
    She climbed off the stick but held on to it, just in case.
    The stars were coming out. The Wintersmith liked clear nights. They were colder.
    And the words came. They were her words in her voice and she knew what they meant, but they had a sort of echo.
    “Wintersmith! I command you!”
    As she blinked at the high-toned way the words had sounded, the reply came back.
    The voice was all around her.
    Who commands the Wintersmith?
    “I am the Summer Lady.” Well, she thought, I’m a sort of stand-in.
    Then why do you hide from me?
    “I fear your ice. I fear your chill. I run from your avalanches. I hide from your storms.” Ah, right. This is goddess talk.
    Live with me in my world of ice!
    “How dare you order me! Don’t you dare to order me!”
    But you chose to dwell in my winter…. The Wintersmith sounded uncertain.
    “I go where I please. I make my own way. I seek the leave of no man. In your country you will honor me—or there will be a reckoning!” And that bit is mine, Tiffany thought, pleased to get a word in.
    There was a long silence, filled with uncertainty and puzzlement. Then the Wintersmith said: How may I serve you, my lady?
    “No more icebergs looking like me. I don’t want to be a face that sinks a thousand ships.”
    And the frost? May we share the frosts? And the snowflakes?
    “Not the frosts. You must not write my name on windows. That can only lead to trouble.”
    But I may be permitted to honor you in snowflakes?
    “Er…” Tiffany stopped. Goddesses shouldn’t say “er,” she was sure of that.
    “Snowflakes will be…acceptable,” she said. After all, she thought, it’s not as though they have my name on them. I mean, most people won’t notice, and if they do they won’t know it’s me.
    Then there will be snowflakes, my lady, until the time we dance again. And we will, for I am making myself a man!
    The voice of the Wintersmith…went.
    Tiffany was alone again among the trees.
    Except…she wasn’t.
    “I know you’re still there,” she said, her breath leaving a sparkle in the air. “You are, aren’t you? I can feel you. You’re not my thoughts. I’m not imagining you. The Wintersmith has gone. You can speak with my mouth. Who are you?”
    The wind made snow fall from the trees nearby. The stars twinkled. Nothing else moved.
    “You are there,” said Tiffany. “You’ve put thoughts in my head. You’ve even made my own voice speak to me. That’s not going to happen again. Now that I know the feeling, I can keep you out. If you have anything to say to me, say it now. When I leave here, I will shut my mind to you. I will not let—”
    How does it feel to be so helpless, sheep girl?
    “You are Summer, aren’t you?” said Tiffany.
    And you are like a little girl dressing in her mother’s clothes, little feet in big shoes, dress trailing in the dirt. The world will freeze because of a silly child—
    Tiffany did—something that it would be impossible for her to describe, and the voice ended up like a distant insect.
    It was lonely on the hill, and cold. And all you could do was keep going. You could scream, cry, and stamp your feet, but apart from making you feel warmer, it wouldn’t do any good. You could say it was unfair, and that was true, but the universe didn’t care because it didn’t know what “fair” meant. That was the big problem about being a witch. It was up to you. It was always up to you.

    Hogswatch came, with more snow and some presents. Nothing from home, even though some coaches were getting through. She told herself there was probably a good reason, and tried to believe it.
    It was the shortest day of the year, which was convenient because it fitted neatly with the longest night. This was the heart of winter, but Tiffany didn’t expect the present that arrived the next day.
    It had been snowing hard, but the evening sky was pink and blue and freezing.
    It came out of the pink evening sky with a whistling noise and landed in