A shadow formed on the jagged surface of the windswept snow. It was bent and angular, but recognizable. A man.

​

I was blind till the silhouette caught me.

​

"You're the newfound man." it said. It stood rigid, its hat, awkwardly askew.

​

"That's what they're calling me," I said. "I'm just trying to get to Shunderland."

 

The silhouette straighten his hat, but it didn't look any more secure. "You can't get there from here."

​

"I know," I cried, "but..." The hard impossibility of my desire struck me. "I have to go!"

 

He bowed and I feared he was folding himself away from me. Instead, his hat tipped heavy into his hand. I was surprised to see a book inside.

 

"Take it," he said.

​

I did.

​

"Open it."