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In Freezeland, there is a story.

They say there is an island of shadows.

They say there things, things that watch, and wait, and listen...

They say if you stay up late, they'll get you, lad, so turn out that light!

But they never dream it's true.

This is the story of things.

Things that don't go bump in the night.

Because they don't lurk in the shadows. They are the shadows.

Prologue[]

I awake.

Whiteness stretches onwards, unbroken, unending ...

Blind! I'm blind!

No. No, it's just a storm. They are common. They happen all the time.

Shelter. I need shelter. An igloo. A building. A tree ...

Trees are good. I could cut down a tree. Build a house. Only take a week or so.

Focus! I must focus! I don't have a week! I need shelter!

Yellow. A patch of yellow, floating in the endless white.

What is it?

I stumble closer, closer ...

Perhaps it's a puffle. A yellow puffle. I had one of those, once. I called it 'Goldy'.

Focus! What can a puffle do for me? I need warmth, I need shelter ...

Perhaps it could build me shelter? Out of snow?

Yes ...

I stumble onwards, through the white.

Whiteness stretches onwards, unbroken, unending ...


Capter One[]

SnellBook,Snellville




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