“White as white,” said Gerta’s grandmother. “She wears the furs of white foxes and her sleigh is cut from birch trees.” She took a sip of her cider. “The snow follows her wherever she goes. When she’s in a temper, she brings down ice storms and the trees fall down like matchsticks.” “Why would she do that?” asked Gerta. Her grandmother shrugged. “She’s the Snow Queen. It’s what she does.”
