Wintersmith

Cover Wintersmith
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Genres: Fiction
Snow fell gently in the darkness. It piled up on rooftops, it kissed its way between the branches of trees, it settled on the forest floor with a gentle sizzle and smelled sharply of tin.
Granny Weatherwax always checked the snow. She stood at her doorway, with the candlelight streaming out around her, and caught flakes on the back of a shovel.
The white kitten watched the snowflakes. That’s all it did. It didn’t bat them with a paw, it just watched, very intently, each flake spiral down until it landed. Then the kitten would watch it some more, until it was sure the entertainment was over, before it looked up and selected another flake.
It was called You, as in “You! Stop that!” and “You! Get off there!” When it came to names, Granny Weatherwax didn’t do fancy.
Granny looked at the snowflakes and smiled in her not-exactly-nice way.
“Come back in, You,” she said, and shut the door.
Miss Tick was shivering by the fire. It wasn’t very big—just big enough. However, there was the smell of
... bacon and pease pudding coming from a small pot on the embers, and beside the small pot was a much larger one from which came the smell of chicken.MoreLess
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Wintersmith
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