They seemed frozen in place.

Then at once, the strange tableau broke, as though a spell that was cast no longer held the people in rapt amazement. Nico surged forth, scooping the child into his arms and holding her close under his red greatcoat. The one lined with white wolf fur.

"I'm sorry," he moaned. "My sweet child, I'm so sorry. Come back to me. The cold cannot take you too. Come back..."

People gathered smallwood, kindling from the trees, and soon the snicka snack of flint and steel echoed in the forest, but the fire, once lit, burned weak and lonely.

"Come back," Nico cried. "It wasn't your fault, though I blamed you. I'm sorry. I was a fool."