“Oh, oh, Star, come look!” Maman had called, stepping into Alastor’s room. Her beautiful brown dress flowed with her movements, and her dark hands wrapped around a sleepy Alastor’s form. She lifted him up from his bed, listening to his sleepy protests.

“C’mon, Star, ya’ wouldn’t believe what’s out ‘ere.” Her steps were light across the cabin floor, as she moved towards the open door. It was cold, and Maman gently lifted up Alastor, and turned him so he’d look.

It was snowing.

“This doesn’t happen much, not at all! Isn’t it beautiful?”