The first snow came early that year, overnight, in October. The roads were closed for two days, electricity gone.
The houses, the gardens, the people, they all were hibernating in white, underneath thick blankets. The only sign that someone had roamed the night: paw prints, leading to doors, circling the houses, yet leaving no other trace –
Does, the kids guessed, or forest fairies, curious for our life.
The old women shook their heads.
They knew more. But they wouldn’t tell, not that day, and not later, when the snow was gone again, and all were still alive.