The Snow Vampire Read Online Free PDF Page B

trees and skirt around small rockslides of dirt and loose shale. Nonetheless, we traveled nimbly. Our banter was lighthearted and relaxed; several times we laughed so hard we had to stop and take extra gulps of air.
    I liked this Hendrik, the way he was when the two of us were alone, far away from the rest of the world. I liked the other Hendrik too, the one who was disconsolate and whose face bore the markings of unmistakable sadness. I liked that Hendrik because I felt he needed me. This Hendrik did not need me; in fact this journey, this moment, was nothing about need at all but only about time spent with each other. It was happy to be needed, I decided, but surely it was better to be treasured.
    Still, my mood darkened noticeably when we approached the ruins. This was the place of my childhood nightmares; when I acted out or refused to go to bed at night, Grandmamma would always warn me that the vrolok would come for me unless I behaved. Though I realized long ago that my fears were unfounded, based on old superstition and villagers’ tales, I still felt them, and they still resonated a palpable sense of trepidation deep within my stomach. Other boys had come up here before on days like today and had come back to brag about their daring to their captivated peers. Yet I had always suspected they had never quite come this far, all the way to the ruins, as far as Hendrik and I had come, to where he and I were standing right now.
    “This is it?” Hendrik posed, gazing at the scene around him. There were mostly just walls left. He turned to look at me. “After your grandmother’s story, I had expected something… more.”
    I shrugged my shoulders. Somehow, finding only these bare ruins reassured me. “Perhaps it was mostly destroyed in the fire when the villagers burned the place to the ground,” I said.
    Hendrik placed his hand on a gray stone wall in front of him. I did the same. Unsurprisingly, it felt cool to my touch. I moved my hand closer to Hendrik’s.
    “There was no fire here,” he said, hastily moving his hand away from mine and pointing to the wall. “See? If there had been, these walls would still bear the marks of it. This is just the neglect of time, and wind and weather, nothing more.” He took a step away from me, surveying the scene around. “Come,” he said, turning toward me once more and indicating the rundown threshold that had once been the massive front door. “Let us go inside.”
    The inside proved as disappointing as the exterior, though it felt cooler in here, as the high stone walls blocked the advance of the noonday sun. Still, I did not like this place; Grandmamma’s stories echoed in my mind, and instinctively I drew closer to Hendrik.
    “It’s peaceful here, isn’t it?” Hendrik asked. I disagreed but didn’t say so aloud. He drew forward. “Come,” he whispered, stepping forward. I found myself rooted to the spot. “Ferenc,” he whispered again, turning around to fetch me.
    I tried hard not to show him my hesitation, my fear, but I was sure he could spot it. Just then, a distinct, unearthly scratching sound came from somewhere to my left, followed by a crashing of brush and tree limbs. The sudden and vehement noise startled me, and I jumped, a small, spontaneous cry passing my lips. I turned, but saw only two fat mountain squirrels at play, one chasing the other merrily over a poplar tree limb and down the stone wall of the monastery again. Frozen with fright, I clutched my hand to my chest, an involuntary gesture suggesting my relief that the snagov vrolok had not come to claim me. My fear, however, quickly turned to embarrassment. I had made a fool of myself in front of Hendrik, acted the part of a cowardly child, and over nothing, over squirrels. Still, to his credit, Hendrik did not abuse me for it. Instead, he stretched his fingers out toward mine.
    “Come. It is all right,” he said. And without another word, he took my hand in his and drew me forward.
    I lost