Silent weeping. That’s what caught my attention.
Breath in the crisp air. Something to freeze.
She was sitting by the fir-tree. Crisp, crackle! I lit beside her. “Do you know who I am?”
“All hail to you, great king,” said she. Her voice shivered.
“Are you warm, maiden?”
“Quite warm, King Frost.”
I stooped to her. I shot knives and darts. Her breath made flowers on her lips.
“Are you warm, beautiful girl?”
“Quite warm, King Frost.”
I gnashed my teeth. I cracked my fingers. I asked again. I got the same answer every time. Warm, though I could see she was stiff as the tree.
I was touched. I wrapped her in furs, gave her a chest of jewels, and the good life she deserved.