by R. L. Stine
I stepped inside. Just to take a look.
The snow had been so bright outside. My eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light.
And before I could focus, I saw a white blur.
A growling white blur. It leaped on me.
Hot breath. Hot breath on my face.
And a snarling, white creature tackled me to the floor.
5
“Down! Down, Wolfbane!”
The snarling stopped instantly.
The creature backed off.
“Down, Wolfbane!” a man’s voice ordered sternly.
Gasping for breath, I wiped hot saliva off my face. And realized I was staring up at a white-furred wolf.
The wolf was breathing hard, too, jaws open, tongue snaking down nearly to the cabin floor. Its head was lowered as if preparing to attack again. Its round, dark brown eyes locked on me suspiciously.
“Down, Wolfbane. It’s okay, boy.”
I rolled away from the panting creature and climbed to my knees. Two hands reached down to grab my hands and tug me to my feet.
“Are you okay?” The man studied me with round, silver-gray eyes. He was tall and thin, dressed all in denim. He had long, gray hair tied back in a short ponytail. And a thick, pure-white beard.
His eyes glowed like steel marbles. I could almost feel them burning into me.
“Is that… really a wolf?” I demanded.
He nodded, his expression stern, his eerie eyes not moving, not blinking. “He won’t hurt you. Wolfbane is well trained.”
“But he—” My mouth suddenly felt so dry it was hard to talk.
“You startled us,” the man said, still not blinking, not looking away. “We were in the back room.” He motioned toward a doorway in the back wall.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. I thought—”
“Who are you?” the man demanded angrily. He narrowed his silvery eyes at me. Behind the bushy white beard, his slender face reddened.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Who are you?” he repeated.
“I was taking a walk,” I struggled to explain. If only my heart weren’t pounding so hard. If only my mouth weren’t so dry.
The white wolf uttered a low growl. It stood tensely, head lowered, eyes locked on me, as if waiting for a command to attack.
“Why did you break into my house?” the man demanded, taking a step toward me.
He’s dangerous, I realized.
There’s something very strange about him. Something very angry.
“I didn’t break in,” I started. “I just—”
“You broke into my house,” he insisted. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that is? Wolfbane is trained to attack strangers.”
“S-sorry—!” I choked out.
He took another step toward me. He still hadn’t blinked those weird, round eyes.
My chest tightened in fright.
What did he plan to do?
I didn’t want to find out.
I took a deep breath. Then I spun around—and ran out the door.
Could I get away?
6
Behind me, the door slammed hard against the cabin wall.
I glanced back—and saw him burst out of the cabin after me. “Where are you going?” he cried. “Hey—stop! Where are you going?”
I pointed. “Up to the top!” I cried.
“No, you’re not!” he shouted back furiously. “You will not go up there!”
He’s crazy! I realized.
He has no right to shout at me like that!
I can go anywhere I want to!
He’s crazy.
It had started to snow, large wet flakes, blowing hard in swirls of wind.
I brushed a snowflake from my forehead and ran to the road.
To my horror, the bearded man followed me, half-walking, half-running over the deep snow.
“Beware, the snowman!” he called.
“Huh?” I turned back to face him. “What did you say?” I cried breathlessly.
The old rhyme flew through my mind for the second time that day…
When the snows blow wild
And the day grows old,
Beware, the snowman, my child.
Beware, the snowman.
He brings the cold.
I don’t believe this! I thought. I haven’t thought about that rhyme since I was five. And now it has run through my mind twice in one day!
We stood staring at each other from opposite sides of the road. I saw the man shiver. He wore only his denim workshirt, no coat. Big snowflakes clung to his gray hair and his shoulders.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“The snowman lives in the ice cave,” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard over the wind.
“Huh? A snowman?”
He’s really nuts! I decided. Why am I standing here listening to him?
The man lives in a cabin on a mountaintop all by himself except for a white wolf! And now he’s yelling insane things about a snowman!
“Beware, the snowman!” he repeated. “You cannot go up to the top! You cannot!”
“Why not?” I demanded. My voice came out higher and more shrill than I had intended.
“You do not want to meet the snowman!” the man cried. The big snowflakes covered his beard. His silvery eyes glowed eerily.
“If you meet the snowman,” he called, “you will never return!”
Totally nuts, I realized.
That’s why he lives all alone up here.
I spun away. I knew I had stayed too long.
Slipping and sliding, I ran through the deep snow.
Ran as fast as I could. Cold snowflakes slapping my hot face. Heart pounding.
Down the road. Down the curving mountain road.
Panting… panting.
Was that me breathing so hard?
Were those my thudding footsteps?
No.
Glancing back, I saw the white wolf chasing me. Gaining fast.
Teeth bared. Head lowered to attack.
“Noooo!” I wailed. The big snowflakes stung my eyes as I ran. The white ground tilted. I stumbled but kept running.
I suddenly felt as if I were trapped in one of those glass balls that snows inside when you shake them.
I tumbled downhill. The snowflakes flew at me in all directions. The whole mountainside seemed to quiver and shake.
The road! Where was the road?
I lost it in the falling snow. My boots sank into deep drifts.
But I kept running. Down… down.
The steady thud of the wolf’s heavy paws in my ears.
I glanced back and saw it gaining on me, moving rhythmically, easily over the snowdrifts. Its teeth were bared. Puffs of steam rose from its open mouth.
Running hard, I didn’t see the smooth rocks jutting up along the side of the road.
My boot caught on one.
“Ohhhh!” I let out a cry as pain shot up my leg. I lost my balance. Stumbled forward.
Landed hard on my stomach in the deep snow.
I gasped for breath. The fall knocked the wind out of me.
Scrambling to my knees, I watched helplessly as the white wolf closed in on me.
7
To my surprise, the wolf stopped a few feet away.
It lowered its head and stared, breathing hard. Beneath the thick, white fur, its chest heaved up and down. Snowflakes melted on its tongue.
Staring at it in fear, I pushed myself to my feet. I brushed my hair back, and brushed snow off the front of my parka.
Was the wolf just catching its breath? Would it attack the moment I tried to run?
“Go home, boy,” I whispered. “Go home.”
My voice barely carried over the wind and snow. The white wolf stared up at me, still panting.
I started to back up. I was afraid to take my eyes off it.
I took one step back. Then another.
The wolf watched
me but didn’t move.
My boots crunched onto the road. Yes! I had found the road! I kept backing up.
The wolf stood taller. Lowered its tail. Tensed its back.
Its brown eyes followed me. Such human eyes.
What was it thinking? Why did it chase after me?
Was it just making sure that I went down the mountain? Did the strange man send it to keep me from heading to the mountaintop?
I took another step back. Then another.
The wolf didn’t move.
The snow-covered road curved away. I kept backing up until I was out of the creature’s sight.
“Whew!” I uttered a loud sigh of relief. Turned. And continued walking fast toward the village and my new house.
Every few seconds, I glanced back. But the wolf didn’t follow me.
The snow came down hard. I pulled my parka hood over my hair. I held it with both hands and started to trot along the road.
I wondered if Aunt Greta would be worried about me. I had been gone a lot longer than I had planned.
Low snow clouds hid the sun. The sky became nearly as black as night.
I started to pass houses on both sides of the road. I could see lights on in some of them. One house had a blazing fire going in a fireplace. Black smoke curled up from the chimney.
I passed one of the strange, scar-faced snowmen. His tree-limb arms trembled in the wind. He appeared to be waving at me as I passed.
I broke into a run.
Another snowman greeted me as I rounded the next curve.
I hate this village! I thought.
It’s too weird. Too weird!
I’m never going to be happy here. Never!
Why did Aunt Greta bring us here?
A thudding sound behind me forced away my unhappy thoughts.
I’m being followed! I realized.
The wolf?
No. These heavy footsteps were different.
Human footsteps.
The crazy, bearded man—he followed me!
“Ohhh!” A frightened moan escaped my lips.
Taking a deep breath, I spun around to face him.
8
“Jaclyn—hi!”
I gasped—and stared through the falling snow at Rolonda. She jogged across the road to me. Snowflakes dotted her black hair.
“You ran right past our house,” she said breathlessly, pointing to her yard. “Didn’t you see us?”
I glanced over her shoulder and saw her brother, Eli, waving to me from their driveway.
“No. I… uh… the snow was falling so hard, and—” I stammered.
“Are you okay?” Rolonda demanded.
“Well…” I hesitated. “A white wolf chased me,” I blurted out. “A crazy man. He has a cabin near the top. His wolf chased me and he—”
“You ran into Conrad?” Rolonda cried.
“Huh? Conrad?” The wind blew my hood off my head. I squinted hard at Rolonda. “Is that his name?”
She nodded. “He has a cabin that he built himself. And he keeps a white wolf named Wolfbane. I meant to warn you before, Jaclyn—”
“Warn me?” I interrupted.
“Yeah. To stay away from him. He and that animal he keeps—they’re both really strange.”
“Tell me about it!” I groaned. I rolled my eyes. “Is that why you and Eli never go up to the mountaintop?”
Rolonda lowered her eyes. “Well… it’s one of the reasons.”
I waited for her to go on. But she didn’t. She continued to stare down at the snow. She kicked a clump of wet snow off one boot with the other. Behind her, Eli stood watching us, his hands jammed into his coat pockets.
“Well, why does Conrad live up there so far away from everyone?” I demanded.
Rolonda hesitated. She glanced back tensely at her brother. “No one knows for sure,” she answered finally. “He—maybe he works for the snowman. I mean…” Her voice trailed off.
“Excuse me?” I cried. I was sure I hadn’t heard her correctly. “What did you say, Rolonda? He works for the snowman? What do you mean? What does that mean?”
She didn’t answer. Again, she glanced back nervously at Eli.
“Come on, Rolonda. What do you mean?” I insisted. “What do you mean, he works for the snowman?”
She backed away, brushing snowflakes from her hair. “I’ve got to go inside,” she said. “It’s almost dinnertime.”
I followed after her. “But first you have to explain,” I demanded.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Because of Eli. He’s too frightened.”
“But, Rolonda—” I started. I saw Eli watching us intently from the driveway.
“Go home,” Rolonda snapped. “Just go home, Jaclyn.”
“Not until you tell me what you meant.” I can be stubborn when I want to be.
“Okay, okay,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at Eli. “Meet me tomorrow night, okay? Meet me tomorrow night at the church—and I’ll tell you everything.”
9
“Hi—I’m back!”
I burst into the house. Aunt Greta was bending over a carton in the small kitchen, pulling out coffee mugs and placing them in a cabinet. She spun around as I walked in.
“Is it snowing?” she asked.
I nodded my head furiously, tossing snowflakes from my hair. “The biggest flakes I ever saw,” I replied breathlessly.
Aunt Greta frowned. “I’ve been so busy in here, I didn’t even look out the window.”
I pulled off my coat and carried it to the front closet. But there were no hangers in the closet yet. So I tossed the wet coat on top of a stack of cartons.
Then I walked back into the kitchen, rubbing the sleeves of my sweater. “Aunt Greta, do you know anything about a snowman?” I asked.
I heard her gasp.
But when she turned to me, her face was a blank. “Snowman?”
“Do you know anything about a snowman on top of the mountain?” I asked.
Aunt Greta bit her bottom lip. “No. No, I don’t, Jaclyn.” Her voice trembled. Why did she look so tense?
She bent down to pull more mugs from the carton. I crossed the room to help her unpack them.
“Someone told me I shouldn’t go to the top of the mountain because of a snowman,” I told her. “A snowman who lives up there.”
Aunt Greta didn’t say anything. She handed me two mugs. I lifted them onto the cabinet shelf.
“This man told me that if I met the snowman up there, I would never return,” I continued.
My aunt let out a short, dry laugh. “Village superstition,” she muttered.
I squinted at her. “Really?”
“Of course,” she replied. “These tiny villages all have their scary stories. Someone was just having fun, giving you a little scare.”
“Fun?” I frowned. “I don’t think so.”
That weird, white-bearded guy, Conrad, had screamed at me that I couldn’t go up to the mountaintop. He wasn’t joking. I knew he wasn’t joking.
He was serious. He was threatening me. He wasn’t having a little fun. No way.
“Aunt Greta, do you remember a rhyme about a snowman?” I asked.
She straightened up and stretched, pushing her hands against her back. “Rhyme?”
“I remembered a rhyme today. From when I was little. It just popped into my head.”
Aunt Greta chewed her lip again fretfully. “I don’t think I remember any rhyme,” she said. She glanced away, avoiding my eyes.
“I only remember the first verse,” I told her. And then I recited it:
“When the snows blow wild
And the day grows old,
Beware, the snowman, my child.
Beware, the snowman.
He brings the cold.”
When I finished, I looked up to find the strangest expression on Aunt Greta’s face. Her eyes had gone all watery. And her chin trembled. Her cheeks were even paler than usual.
“Aunt Greta—are you okay?
” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied sharply, turning her face away from me. “Nothing at all, Jaclyn. But I don’t remember that rhyme. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”
She fiddled nervously with her long, white braid.
“Are you sure?” I asked timidly.
“Of course I’m sure,” she snapped. “Now, come on. Help me finish up in here so I can begin dinner.”
What is wrong? I wondered. Why is she suddenly angry at me?
And why do I have the feeling that she isn’t telling the truth?
Aunt Greta has never lied to me before.
Why is she acting so strange now?
10
I couldn’t sleep that night.
My new bed felt hard. I kept imagining that the low ceiling was sinking, dropping down on me.
The snow clouds had drifted away, and a half moon appeared, low in the sky. The moonlight washed in through my round window, casting long, shifting shadows over my room.
I shuddered under my quilt. It was all so new and strange. I wondered if I’d ever be able to sleep up here.
I shut my eyes and tried to think nice, soothing thoughts. I pictured my friends back in Chicago. I called up their faces one by one. I wondered what they were all doing today while I was having my frightening adventure on the mountain.
I wondered if they missed me.
I had just about fallen asleep when the howls began.
Wolf howls?
I climbed out of bed and made my way to the window. Down below, the moonlight made the snow sparkle, almost as bright as during the day.
Bushes trembled in a soft breeze. The wind carried another frightening howl. I raised my eyes to the mountain. But I could see only houses, dark and silent, and the silvery road that curved its way to the top.
My whole body tingled. I knew I couldn’t fall asleep. It was chilly up here in my little attic room, and the air felt heavy and damp.
I decided to take a walk. Maybe it will help me relax, I told myself.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Then I crept downstairs—careful not to wake Aunt Greta—and found my parka and boots.