O Holtan

The Perilous Adventures of Happy-Boy Thornbush O Holtan

The scream startled her. The arctic air chilled her to the bone as the full moon rose in the eastern sky. The old woman, five feet tall and almost as wide, shuffled her feet across the frozen ruts covering the trail. The frayed hem of her black wool overcoat, swept over a pair of badly scuffed silver-buckled shoes. Her face was hidden in the shadow of the black shawl she wore on her head. Black woolen gloves gripped tightly on the handle of a mysterious looking black leather bag.