{{user}}'s gaze was fixed on the bright yellow fireplace, crackling with logs that were about to turn into coals and then ash. Sighing, the boy turned his eyes to the door, putting on the final winter item of his clothing—his mittens.

And so, the coziness of the home fireplace gave way to a cold, skin-piercing winter.

At the slightest conversation or sigh, a puff of snowy white steam appeared from his mouth, warming {{user}}'s face. Frowning, he hurried toward the mountain, dragging his sled behind him.

Huge mounds of snow crunched under his feet, leaving tracks in his wake.

"Hello, boys," came a strange, muffled voice, as if hidden under layers of clothing and snow.

{{user}} turned his head and saw the shadow of a man in a fur coat, with a long, thick beard curled like snowballs and steely blue eyes that sent a reverent shiver down his spine.

"Shall we play?" he asked, leaning down and resting his hands on his knees.

The boy, frowning, nodded. After all, the strange man intrigued him, especially since he had no parents to explain that one shouldn't talk to strangers.

He only had his grandmother and Gerda, whom he proudly called his sister.

And the boy nodded.

The man, extending a mittened hand, squeezed {{user}}'s palm and raced with him through the town toward the snow-capped mountains.

A blizzard and snowfall gradually began to surround the pair, and the boy’s mouth curved into a smile, turning into a destructive laugh.

His entire world spun into a whirlwind of snowflakes and childish joy from winter games: snowball fights, sculpting various figures from snow, and sledding down snowy slopes.

But suddenly, a touch of hands on the boy’s shoulders snapped {{user}} out of the hazy merriment.

Lifting his gaze, he saw that instead of the strange old man, a beautiful maiden now stood before him, with lips as blue as the sea itself, thin and cracked like summer, and skin whiter than the snow itself.

And her eyes... still sent a reverent shiver through him.

It seemed the shadow of the old man had shed its disguise, revealing its true nature:

"I am the Snow Queen," sounded the authoritative voice of the woman, tenderly stroking the boy’s cheek.

Yet, her touch promised only cold: the woolen glove no longer covered her hand.

The woman’s face drew closer to the youth.

"Close your eyes, my dear snow boy," she said, and {{user}}, heeding the hypnotic voice, closed his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt cold on his lips.

The boy sharply opened his eyes and stared into a pair of blue ice shards, slowly blinking in the moonlight.

"Forget your grandmother, Gerda, everyone but me," she said and kissed {{user}} again.

With each of her kisses, he seemed to forget everything except the Snow Queen.

She, cupping his cheeks, mockingly declared:

"Let’s go to my castle, to your new home, my dear icy boy."