Free Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu, Erin Mcguire Page B

But the trees wouldn’t tell. And he pushed himself off and felt as if he were really flying now.
    Still, it was not enough. He could not do it.
    He dragged the sled back up and was surprised to realize that it had started snowing. He stood and watched the flakes descend around him. They touched down gently on the dark trees in the wood, and Jack found himself taking a step closer. And another.
    The snowflakes landed on him like a blessing. Like they saw him and welcomed him. He could see them, too, every perfect symmetrical bit of them. They were icy assurances, proof that there was an order to things. You could crawl into the center of one and understand everything.
    A gust of wind picked up in the woods, and the snow in front of it began to stir. It was like a small tornado had settled at the tree line, and snow began to whirl around faster and faster. Jack took a step back as the spinning column got bigger, and part of him wanted to run, but it was only a small part. For he understood he was seeing magic.
    And indeed he was. For the snow was not snow anymore, but a woman—tall and lithe like a sketch, in a white fur cape and a white shimmering gown that looked so thin it would melt if you touched it. Hair like spun crystal framed cream-colored skin. The woman stepped closer, revealing eyes as bright as the sun reflecting off snow. But they were cold things, and it was like looking for solace in frost.

    Jack could not move as she walked toward him. It did not seem possible that she would be coming for him, but she was. Her eyes did not leave him, and in her cold gaze he found his breath again. The air welcomed him back.
    “Are you real?” he asked, though it was a stupid thing to ask.
    “I am,” she said, her voice twinkling and melodic.
    “How do you do that?” He motioned to the snow out of which she had come.
    She was in front of him now, and Jack felt his chest expand and then freeze, an inhalation with no companion.
    “Doesn’t that take the fun out of it?” she said. She spoke slowly, and her voice was like a chain that pulled you gently closer. “To know how it is done?”
    “No. I want to know. I want to understand things. I want to understand everything.” He sounded so desperate to his own ears.
    “I see. And what will you do when you understand everything? Will you share your knowledge to better the world?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
    Her eyes sparkled, for him. Jack felt a smile on his face. “Maybe.”
    She leaned in, bringing coldness with her. “Or,” she murmured, “will you keep it all for yourself?”
    “You never know,” Jack said. His heart filled. He could play this game, he understood it like he understood the numbers. Everything made sense. He was pleased with himself for keeping up with this woman made of ice.
    “What if I told you that there was a place where there are extraordinary things, things with great power, things that could give you your heart’s desire, things much bigger than this small, small world?”
    Jack’s heart sped up, and he knew he was not playing a game anymore. “Is there?” he demanded.
    “There is. What you saw from me is only the beginning.”
    “You want to take me there?”
    “I do. I could tell looking at you that you are destined to do great things.”
    “Really?”
    “Oh, yes, my young friend. I can make you live on forever.” She motioned to the wood and he saw there a gleaming white sleigh attached to winged white horses. And he understood how small this world really was.
    He took a step forward, but something stopped him, something his heart was whispering.
    “Wait,” he said, looking up at the white witch. “Will I be gone for long?”
    She smiled. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “They won’t miss you at all.”
    “Okay!” He climbed into the sleigh and the woman appeared next to him. She took hold of the reins and looked down at him with a sly smile.
    “Would you like some Turkish delight?” she