Stealing Snow by Danielle Paige Page A

me there. The roof was a thin layer of ice through which the sun filtered in.
    Maybe the cage inside the house was just for one of these creatures.
    I wondered if the animals had always been different here. Or if these animals were here because they were different.
    The ecru penguin opened its mouth, revealing a set of sharp teeth that did not belong.
    I laughed seeing the adorable creature’s weird adaptation. But the sound I made drew the attention of the other animals in their ice cages. They began to stir—clawing and biting and trying to get to me. The penguins advanced, and I took a step back, confident that the snow cages would hold and that I could close the door on the little fanged wobbly bird that Frankenstein-walked toward me, flapping its beige wings.
    But beyond the penguins I saw something even more disconcerting. The top of each snow wall was suddenly covered in vultures. It was like that old Hitchcock movie that Vern made me watch, in which hundreds of birds descended on a town at once. Only these birds were going to descend on me.
    I began to back out, but it was too late. The birds took flight with me in their sights. A black cloud of feathers and pointy beaks filled my vision.
    The ice roof shook.
    I shielded my face with my arms, then turned to run.
    Gerde’s singsongy voice broke out.
    “Behave,” she ordered, and the cloud of black parted.
    The birds returned to their former perches. As their wings ruffled back into place, their caws died down into soft coos.
    Gerde moved through the beasts that now were as tame as house pets.
    “They don’t always love new people,” she said in apology.
    I allowed myself to exhale. I felt my worry settle a few seconds behind the birds. I could have hugged Gerde. I was so glad to see her.
    As we walked through, a vulture cocked its head and squawkedat me as if to ask what I was staring at. Gerde whistled back at it, and it landed on her shoulder.
    “Good girl, Zion,” Gerde began sheepishly.
    Zion made a sharp clucking noise, to which Gerde responded with a nod. She looked up at me as if remembering I was there.
    “I know talking to birds makes me a little…”
    “Nuts?” I wanted to tell her that where I came from people did much, much more outlandish things. “I think you just saved my life.”
    Gerde looked away from the vulture perched on her shoulder and back at me quizzically. I couldn’t tell if she knew about my escape from the River Witch, but even if she did, she didn’t ask about it.
    “Kai built this for me,” Gerde explained as we walked through the zoo. “We call it the Keep. I’ve always had a way with plants and animals.”
    “I’ve never had much of a way with anything or anyone. Except maybe a pencil,” I countered.
    And Bale.
    “You draw? I bet Kai would lend you some of his supplies. He’ll be thrilled. I can barely draw a stick figure.”
    My fingers twitched at the thought of a pencil. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to draw again. Everything I’d drawn had come true. What would I draw next?
    Things were already so insane. I did not really want to see anything else come to life from my pages.
    “I’m okay. Maybe later.”
    She nodded as we made our way through the animals. They all made happy noises in her presence.
    “Please don’t tell anyone about the Keep.”
    I wasn’t quite sure if she and Kai really understood what a secret was. Having a hidden menagerie didn’t seem like that big of a deal.
    “I won’t tell anyone,” I assured her. “Who would I tell?”
    Gerde clapped her hands together, pleased, but a flash of worry crossed her small face at the idea of my talking to other people. I was a stray she’d taken in. And like with her animal pets, she half wanted me not to remember where I belonged so she could keep me.
    “Why is it a secret? Wouldn’t people want to preserve all this?”
    “Resources are limited. But because of what I can do, I can sustain them. Some would disagree with me for keeping